


On Guard

by Maiika



Series: Bodyguard AU [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-20 15:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17025123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiika/pseuds/Maiika
Summary: He’s taken this assignment reluctantly.  She only has to tolerate him for a couple months until Goku returns.  What happens between these two in the interim is, however, unavoidable.





	1. On Time

The airport was a filthy place, full of musty smells and strange people.  Bulma’s two-and-a-half-hour flight wouldn’t be much of an improvement once she was sitting in first class on the plane, either.

Bulma sought the white-framed digital clock hung above her departure gate.  She sighed upon reading 6:11. She only had a little longer to wait until boarding.  She rubbed a palm over her face, groaning at the puffy softness she felt beneath her tired eyes.  With a sigh, Bulma reached into her red leather bag tucked beneath her chair to retrieve her cell phone.

Fortunately, she used the thing so often, she could operate it on autopilot - and she did with a quick dial.  Because at this early hour, her brain wasn’t fully operational yet.

_“Miss Brief?”_

“Oolong,” Bulma breathed, bowing her head.  “Never book me a flight this early. Ever. Again.”

_“I-I’m sorry, but uh-“_

Suddenly awakened by the unexpected quiver in Oolong’s voice, Bulma shot to attention.  “Oolong?”

_“-I don’t have time to discuss that right now.  Your flight should be on schedule, so-“_

“Oolong?” Bulma inched forward in her seat, paying no mind to the other waiting passengers who seemed alarmed by her rising volume.  “What’s happening at Capsule Corp? Is there a problem? Is it that Zarbon creep? Is he snooping around on the premises again?”

She shot a glare to a middle aged woman raising a thick, judgmental brow at her.  Bulma was in no mood for other people’s bullshit right now. She was tired, she was cranky, she was leaving behind a friend in peril, and apparently something was wrong at the home to which she was returning, which her assistant was reluctant to share with her.  Her personal assistant’s fearful reluctance to relay facts to her was _never_ a good sign.  Other ominous signs, such as the clatters she was now able to pick up in the background of Oolong’s call, as well as her personal bodyguard’s voice saying something he shouldn’t had Bulma on full alert.

Bulma inched to the edge of her seat.  “Did Goku just say ‘don’t worry?’”

 _“It’s nothing!”_ Oolong said in a voice which couldn’t be further from reassuring.   _“I’ll fix it!  No problem.”_

“Fix it?” Bulma shot to her feet as her eye began to twitch.  “Fix _what_?”

Oolong’s voice drifted from the phone.   _“Goku!”_

Bulma raised a brow.  She thought she heard a plea behind his tone, but Oolong had no reason to plead with Goku.  If he needed help or if there was danger, Goku would be the first person to whom Oolong would turn.

_“Oh, no.  I’ve gotta go.”_

“Goku’s still meeting me at the airport, right?  Oolong!”

_“H-have a safe flight, Miss Brief.”_

“Oolong!”

A flat tone ended the call, causing the twitching of Bulma’s eye to extend to her brow.  She heaved a few breaths as she processed the fact that _Oolong_ had hung up on her.

With a yell, Bulma chucked her phone to the ground.

As it bounced off the white tiles, Bulma heard it crack, but she didn’t care about the damn thing now.  She could replace it with another one when she arrived home.

That was, _if_ she’d make it home safely.  She thought she’d be fine making it onto her first class flight alone from here, but she didn’t like being vulnerable at the moment.  Bulma gnawed her bottom lip as she recalled Chi-Chi’s problem. Bulma hadn’t yet left Satan City. She was still within reach of the gangsters holding a grudge against Chi-Chi. What if someone had caught onto Bulma’s association with the stubborn DA?  What if they’d followed her to the airport to do anything they could to stop Bulma’s friend from prosecuting Majin Buu? What if they would go so far as to follow her all the way to her fortress of a home? Bulma needed Goku to be at the airport when she arrived, for her own safety.

With a reluctant growl, Bulma dove onto the blue fibers of carpet beneath the row of seats for her phone.  With her hand on it, she looked up to see a man standing over her, ogling her chest where she could feel her silk blouse draping below the line of her cleavage.  When she glared up at him, the man’s eyes went wide and diverted from her chest, as if he was able to sense the murderous intent behind her thoughts. With a harrumph, Bulma rose to her feet with her cracked phone in hand and returned to her seat.  The device was damaged, but it would still work. With a deep breath, she dialed Goku’s number.

 _“Hey, Bulma!”_  Goku sounded absolutely chipper, in spite of the conversation that had just happened.   _“Weren’t you just talking to Oolong?”_

Bulma nodded.  “About you, apparently.  What are you up to?”

Goku laughed that nervous laugh which told Bulma he was indeed up to something and trying to hide it from her.   _“It’s no big deal.  Just packing.”_

“Packing?”  Bulma blinked.  She could hear fabric rustling so she believed it, but she didn’t understand it.  “I haven’t given you time off. I need you now more than ever. I shouldn’t have come to Satan City.  Publicly associating myself with the woman closing in on Buu’s trial was a bad idea.”

_“Nah, you were being a good friend.”_

Bulma sighed, though her stomach churned.  “I guess you’re right. So, speaking of being a good friend, you won’t be late to the airport, right?”

 _“Well, no...I won’t be_ late _to it.”_

“Good,” Bulma said as her boarding call started through the overhead speakers.  “Because if you’re not there to keep me safe, I’ll kill you.”

Bulma’s gaze shifted to the screen over her gate.  She read the printed boarding instructions listing her seat number.  It was time to go.

_“Bulma-“_

“Whatever it is, you’ll have to tell me when we see each other,” Bulma said as she retrieved the red leather weekender bag at her feet.  “I’ll be home in two and a half hours.”

 _“Is that how long the flight is?”_ Goku whined.

With a roll of her eyes, Bulma threw the bags over her shoulder and turned toward the gate.  “Yes, Goku. But I don’t understand what _you_ have to complain about.  I’m the one flying.” Bulma laughed.  “Bye.”

When Bulma tucked away her phone and turned to join the queue at the gate, she frowned.  Even though she felt reassured by Goku’s words during the phone call, she still felt uneasy.  Something was going on at home that no one was telling her. She wasn’t looking forward to assessing the damage when she returned.

 

* * *

 

The airport was a dangerous place, swarming with useless security and too many people. Vegeta hated picking up new clients here.  But he supposed it was better than flying out to Satan City to protect some self-righteous prosecutor from the mob. Vegeta snorted and crossed his arms as the thought of that job conjured an image in his mind: Goku experiencing airsickness at this moment, with his broad shoulders squeezed into a narrow window seat, wishing he had the power to fly out of the stuffy tincan or otherwise make himself instantaneously appear at the lawyer’s penthouse in Satan City.

Too bad he couldn’t.  He’d have to suffer. Thoughts like this brought a smile to Vegeta’s face.

But then as another arrival was declared on the overhead speaker, Vegeta huffed.  His pleasure was short-lived when he was so quickly reminded that Goku’s most recent client, for whom Vegeta was expecting to take responsibility from here on out wouldn’t arrive until the _last_ flight listed on the roster.

“How much longer am I supposed to stand here?” he growled at the gargantuan silent-type standing over him.

“Flight 267 will arrive at 8:45.”

Vegeta shot a glare up at the monotonous limo driver whose fixed a blank stare on the flight board.  “I can see that.”

A small smile crept across the driver’s tight lips.  “Then you already know when Miss Brief will arrive.”

Vegeta felt a throb in his temple as he watched the man with a red strip of hair across the top of his otherwise bald head stare complacently at the screen.  Miss Brief certainly hired strange help. Vegeta wasn’t sure his surroundings at Capsule Corp would be much of an improvement in company _or_ location after leaving this dilapidated airport.

As he looked away from the huge man standing next to him to once again survey the airport, Vegeta felt his jaw tighten.  He’d spotted some punks earlier near the bathrooms, but he was certain they were doing something fruitless with their time.  They weren’t at a criminal level of kidnapping or otherwise harming a guarded woman. Security had been sweeping past an abandoned black suitcase near the fountain in the center of the terminal, but Vegeta saw its owner carelessly abandon the thing earlier.  Nothing more there than an idiot. It was that man in a suit, talking covertly on his phone that concerned Vegeta. As soon as his client arrived, Vegeta would have to rush her out of here as quickly as possible. Every moment spent in an airport was dangerous.

“Flight 267 is arriving at gate 3 now,” the driver said.

“About time,” Vegeta said as he uncrossed his arms and stepped toward the appropriate gate.  “Move it, 17!”

“16.”

Vegeta maintained his steadfast gait as he peered over his shoulder at the man following him.  “What?”

“My name is 16.”

“Whatever,” Vegeta grumbled with a shake of his head.

That had to be the dumbest name he ever heard.  He thought when the guy first introduced himself, he was giving his driver number, not a name.  This world was full of ridiculous fools. But that idiot could _keep_ his dumb name.  All Vegeta cared about now was getting his ass out of this airport with one new client intact.

The security check outside Gate 3 was already surrounded by people when he and 16 arrived.  Vegeta scowled at the crowd as a wave of arrivals poured through the checkpoint. He knew the face he was looking for.  The protection agency for which he and Goku worked had sent him a picture. Not that he needed it.

Bulma Brief was famous.  A rich, spoiled heiress. That wasn’t the way Goku described her, though.  According to _him_ , Goku’s client of the past six years was one of his most obstinate clients, but also a friend he grew to genuinely care about.  Which, to Vegeta, meant nothing. Goku was a pushover and could befriend the slimiest lowlife on the planet. Vegeta supposed he could be counted among them.  For all Vegeta knew, the Brief woman could either be a pushover like Goku _or_ a piece of shit.  Since the piece of shit characters always seemed to gravitate toward Goku, Vegeta was betting on the latter.

When he spied the familiar face on the blue haired woman stepping forward, Vegeta smiled to himself, relieved to know he’d be free of this airport soon.  Her blue eyes met his before her feet drew to a sudden halt. Vegeta could see her thought process as her eyes darted to 16, and then Vegeta, before wandering across the sea of unimportant faces surrounding them as a frown marred her pretty face.  As she surged toward them, narrowing her brows, Vegeta palmed his face. Goku hadn’t told her about the last-minute assignment switch, the idiot. Vegeta knew already, by the look on her face, the ride to take Bulma Brief home from the airport was going to be hell.


	2. In the Car

 

Goku had abandoned her.  

Without her permission, he’d traded his position with this hired thug who had the audacity to call himself a professional, even though he hadn’t managed one kind smile or offer of assistance since the moment Bulma met him.  This guy  _ should’ve  _ been on his way out to Chi-Chi in Satan City to protect her from her imminent assassination, but instead, for some reason which seemed ridiculous to Bulma, Goku had gone in his place.  When Bulma offered Chi-Chi a bodyguard, Bulma never had in mind the possibility that she’d have to give up  _ her guard _ .  If she’d known, she might’ve listened to Chi-Chi’s objections and left her to fend for herself.

Along the way, curtly explaining how this situation came to be, this man Vegeta had shoved Bulma through baggage.  He’d rushed her out the terminal to the parking garage, pushing her around like she was an animal rather than a human being.  Goku never would’ve done that. He might’ve done a lot of stupid things, but he’d never manhandle Bulma so rudely. This man refused to embellish on how _he’d_ ended up here while Goku was on a plane to Satan City.  Meanwhile, aside from carrying her luggage, 16 was useless to Bulma’s quest for explanation.  After two years of driving for her and countless hours in the car together, he still managed to remain the least conversational person working for her.  

Bulma wanted more answers.  She deserved a damn explanation for this after fuming all the way to her car.  So as the three of them reached her shiny white limo in the parking garage, before Vegeta could shove her through the backdoor like corralled livestock, Bulma decided to go straight to the source.  

“Hold on,” she said, pressing her phone to her ear, waving off Vegeta’s forceful hand.  In spite of the bodyguard’s groan, Bulma spun from the car to face passing cars driving up the ramp on their way to the sunlit exit.

While the phone rang in her ear, the short but amazingly obtrusive bodyguard growled.  “I told you to go straight into your car.  _ What _ do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ll get  _ inside _ the car when I’m ready,” Bulma called over her shoulder while Goku’s bright voice sounded in her ear - a recording.  “I’m calling Goku.”

As she pulled the phone from her ear and hit redial, Vegeta snorted.  “What part of ‘he’s on a plane’ do you not understand?”

Bulma’s eyes bulged.  Her teeth clenched as she forced her finger into the end button on her phone.  “Shit!” 

“Now.”  Behind her, Vegeta sounded smug.  She heard the creak of her limo’s passenger door opening as the engine started.  “Get in.”

“Not yet.”  Bulma dialed a new number furiously at the sound of footsteps approaching, feeling a sneaking suspicion that Vegeta was even  _ more _ likely to throw her phone around than she was.  But she needed to talk to someone. If she couldn’t get explanation from Goku, she was going to get sympathy from Chi-Chi.

_ "Bulma?" _

“Chi-Chi...” Bulma said as she stepped away from Vegeta, her glare softening at the sound of Chi-Chi’s slurred, tired words.  “Are you alright?"

_ "I was until someone called me at," _ Chi-Chi groaned,  _ "nine a.m. on a Saturday." _

"Oh,” Bulma said with a dismissive shrug.  “Well, it's really not that early, Chi-Chi. Anyway, I just got in to West City and you'll never believe what happened.  You have no idea how much you owe me now. I mean, you better  _ really _ appreciate what I am sacrificing for y-"

Bulma’s words caught in her throat as she turned her eyes on her empty palm.  The phone that had been cradled there felt like it had flown right out of her hand.  She grunted, dismayed, until she turned to see Vegeta waving her phone from his fingertips, his brows lowering as his lips turned down at the corners.

“Hey!  Bulma stomped her heel on the pavement.  “Give me back my phone! What kind of a bodyguard are you?”

“An effective one.  Only a fool would let you stand out here in an open parking garage.”

Bulma crossed her arms.  “Goku would let me make that call.”

Vegeta’s downturned lip pulled up into a smile.  “You’ve proven my point. Time to go.”

“I told you,” Bulma said, marching up to the bodyguard, reaching for her phone cradled in his palm, “I’m not going anywhere until I make a call.”

He drew the phone into his chest.  “Yes, you are.”

As he reached for Bulma’s arm, probably intending to manhandle her again, Bulma slipped from his grasp and raised a finger.  “If you really work for the same agency Goku does, keep in mind that my family  _ owns _ the company paying your salary.”  When his lip pulled back in a sneer, Bulma smiled.  “That’s right. I can have your ass on the streets before you can say ‘what happened?’.  Just keep that in mind, hotshot  _ tough _ guy, before you keep pushing around delicate women.”

As Bulma smiled and took the phone from his hand, Vegeta scoffed.  “You think I’m scared of the streets? There are much worse things than being kicked out of a lavish mansion, but I wouldn’t expect someone like  _ you _ to understand that.”

Bulma scoffed back at him as she redialed Chi-Chi’s number, her eyes never moving from Vegeta’s scornful gaze.  “Rude,” she muttered as the phone rang, before it clicked in her ear. 

Bulma furrowed her brows and pulled the phone away to see her home screen, no trace of her call to Chi-Chi showing.  She pursed her lips. She’d been hung up on by Chi-Chi. Bulma dialed again.

“Who are you calling that’s so damn important it can’t wait  _ two minutes _ ?”

“Chi-Chi,” Bulma said, turning her back and raising her chin.  “And I’d appreciate it if you wait in the car. You can probably get away with staring at my ass from there.  I won’t say anything.”

Bulma chuckled to herself, pleased by the blush highlighting Vegeta’s cheeks that she prompted with her remark.  Judging by the scowl on his face, he didn’t want her to catch that. Didn’t change the fact that she did.

As the phone finally stopped ringing, Vegeta scoffed and stepped toward her.  “Who do you think you’re talking to? I don’t care about this Chi you need to talk to.  You won’t talk to  _ anyone _ until I’ve checked their background first.  I  _ don’t _ leave my clients unprotected!”

Bulma heard the rasp of air from her phone before Chi-Chi’s irate voice spoke up, but Vegeta yanking on her arm, giving her orders, and misspeaking her friend’s name kept her from processing the words her friend was yelling at her.

“It’s not  _ Chi _ , it’s Chi-Chi!  Chi-Chi Mao, you Nazi!  My friend that I just visited! I'll be on the phone for a few minutes! Go wait in the car!"  Bulma took a deep breath before turning her attention to Chi-Chi, who understandably sounded upset.

_ "Bulma, what is going on over there?" _

"I've been trying to tell you, Chi." Bulma huffed, deciding with a grimace to stretch the truth and make a long story short. "I talked to the protection service last night, and they placed you with a guy who they assure me is the best available at what he does."

_ "Well, that sounds promising." _

"Yeah. I hope so," Bulma grumbled, knowing full well that asshole was standing right here at  _ her _ car and  _ didn’t _ seem anything like the performance level she expected from her protection service, which  _ hadn’t _ said a word about this to her.

_ "Bulma?" _

Bulma turned to see Vegeta tapping at his watch.  She sighed. He wore an impatient scowl on his face as he curled his fingers around her limo door as if he was preparing to rip it off its hinges.  He had no right to be impatient.  _ She _ was the one being inconvenienced here.  Not to mention  _ paying _ for it.  Just because Vegeta had some problem with a judge in the vicinity of where Chi-Chi lived or some nonsense, Bulma was stuck in this lousy situation.

Bulma groaned and turned her eyes from his piercing glare. "This professional they found refused to leave West City. He apparently has something against Satan City."

_ "So they have to find someone else." _

"No. Actually, Goku knows the guy and owed him a favor,” Bulma said with a roll of her eyes, “so they worked it out between themselves,  _ without _ my knowledge, that they would trade positions."

_ "Goku?" _

Bulma frowned at how clueless Chi-Chi sounded.  "My guy, Chi!  _ My _ great, reliable guy is on a plane right now, headed for Satan City for your protection, while I'm stuck with the stubborn asshole who better be as good as they say, because this guy is really pissing me off already and I just met him!"

_ "Really?" _

"Really." Bulma’s frown deepened when she heard Chi-Chi snickering into her phone. "It's not funny, Chi-Chi."

_ "So…you're telling me that I have this excellent guard coming here who you didn't want to share?” _ Bulma pursed her lips at Chi-Chi’s gloating tone.  She was painfully aware of Vegeta’s eyes boring a hole into the back of her head.  “ _ I guess this won't be so bad after all.  Then again, if you still want to keep him to yourself, we can forget about this whole terrible idea of yours, Bulma. I can just send him right back to you." _

"No way," Bulma said, knowing Chi-Chi needed protection - Goku, if it had to be him - now more than Bulma did. "I'll just have to deal, but like I said, you owe me."

_ "It's hardly fair that I should have to owe you for something you're forcing on me, Bulma." _

"This is what friends are for, Cheech," Bulma replied cheekily.  Her eyes narrowed when her thoughts returned to Vegeta and the car ride home she had to look forward to.  This was all Goku’s fault for not consulting her. Some friend he was. "When Goku gets there, you let him know how pissed I am about this. He's going to be so sorry when he gets back here. He had no business making that decision without me. This jerk friend of his is going to make my life miserable for the next few months! I can see it now!"

_ "I'm sure it's not that bad. You probably have to get to know the guy." _

“Time’s up!” Vegeta called.  “If you don’t end that call now, I’ll end it  _ for _ you.”

Bulma groaned and clutched her phone to her ear.  "I have to go. My new guard insists we need to leave the airport now.  Bye, Chi."

With a grunt, Bulma turned a glare on Vegeta.  She marched back to her car, slipping her phone into the purse slung over her shoulder, her glare hardening with every step as she absorbed the gloating smile crossing Vegeta’s face.  Maybe she didn’t need a bodyguard. She could always wait until Chi-Chi’s threat passed and Goku returned from Satan City, couldn’t she? It wasn’t like Bulma herself was in any immediate danger here, aside from the occasional stalkers and people attempting to trespass on her famous estate.  She pursed her lips when the man named Zarbon crossed her mind, a handsome suitor who’d turned out to be more of a creep than Bulma had originally judged him to be. She felt a shiver crawl up her spine, realizing there were lots of Zarbons in the world – and men like that seemed to gravitate toward her.

“Well?” Vegeta tapped his fingers on the doorframe.  “Done  _ chatting _ finally?”

Bulma’s jaw clenched.  His attitude sent her over the edge.  She took a deep breath, filling her lungs for the words she intended to spew at him.  He was fired. She was going to send him back wherever he came from with no pay. There were plenty of other guards out there…but there weren’t any more Gokus.  Bulma worked her jaw, her eyes fixed on Vegeta’s dark stare just as her mind scrolled through all the guards she’d been through, all the assholes who’d tried peeping on her in the shower while on duty, coming onto her too hard and too frequently, stealing her shit – never matching up to Goku. 

Aside from Goku’s character flaw of being utterly useless with giving Bulma a heads-up about this change in situation, she also knew how amazing he was at his job and how he wouldn’t leave her in harm’s way.  If Goku thought Vegeta was the best person to keep Bulma safe in his absence, then Bulma probably wasn’t going to find anyone better. She didn’t want to go through the nightmare of the selection process again.  One thought of her scary encounter with Zarbon, and she didn’t want to consider the option of going it solo, either. 16 was a big dude and pretty scary, but Bulma couldn’t rely on him to protect her if a threat arose, not when the guy was so gentle he would veer her $700,000-car into a ditch just to avoid running over a damn bird.  Bulma heaved the breath she’d been holding. She’d have to trust Goku’s judgement, as much as it pained her to give Vegeta even a momentary satisfaction.

“When we arrive at Capsule Corp, I’ll have my assistant, Oolong, run you through your duties and give you a tour of the place,” Bulma said through clenched teeth.  “Goku already has everything wired up for security, so you don’t need to do anything but  _ exist _ .”

“I’ll judge the security setup for myself when I see it.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes,” Vegeta snapped, shooting Bulma a hard glare.  “I will.”

Bulma felt her brow twitch and her bottom lip quiver under his penetrating look, but she held her glare.  “I’m not going to babysit you, and I can’t stop you. But if I catch you doing  _ anything _ I haven’t approved – and I’ll  _ know _ – I’ll have you share a room with 16 instead of letting you borrow Goku’s.”

Vegeta scoffed as Bulma slid into her cool, conditioned car.  “You think that’s a threat? Who says I  _ want _ that idiot’s room?”

As Vegeta swung the door closed behind her, Bulma smiled to herself.  She caught 16’s smiling eyes as the large man ducked into the driver’s seat in front of her while Vegeta made his way around to the other side of the car.  Bulma was a bit surprised that Vegeta sat next to her rather than the front seat with 16, but she was quick to mask it before he could notice. She smiled again, anticipating Vegeta actually sharing a room with 16.  The car shifted and creaked as Vegeta shut the door and 16 cranked the engine to life. Bulma’s smile only grew larger. She imagined 16 smiling in the driver’s seat, too.

“What?” Vegeta asked, his brows furrowing as he took in Bulma’s expression.

“Nothing.  You don’t want Goku’s room.  I completely understand. Let’s go, 16.  Vegeta wanted us to go.”

As the limo rolled forward and Bulma clasped the seat in preparation for the shift of the coming turn, Vegeta cocked his head at her.  He was studying her, trying to figure out what was going through her mind. Bulma pressed her lips together and shook her head, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead.  If Vegeta wanted an explanation, he was going to have to ask nicely for it. He probably wouldn’t like her response, though. As Bulma thought of how she’d answer his impending question, a giggle slipped from her lips.

“What are you laughing about?”  Vegeta snapped.

Bulma looked at him, her smile feeling blatantly smug as her eyes met his confounded ones.  Now  _ that _ was a look she liked seeing on his face.  Maybe having him around wouldn’t be so bad, if he could learn to behave a little less like an asshole.

“16’s room, well, it’s...an interesting choice, is all.”

“Why?”

“I love birds,” 16 offered, glancing over his shoulder as they emerged from the parking garage into the sunlight.  “I have many birds.”

“Many, many birds,” Bulma said.

“You should also know, Vegeta,” 16 added as Vegeta scowled, “if you’re staying with me, I sleep with the windows open.  Sometimes I pass gas in the night.”

As Vegeta made a disgusted face, Bulma burst with laughter.  Sometimes she really appreciated 16’s straightforward attitude.  It could be refreshing at times like this. And the look on Vegeta’s face was priceless.  She’d never seen anyone’s lips turn down that deeply before, nor had she ever met a  _ man _ disgusted by any bodily function.  Her new, seemingly hardcore bodyguard seemed to have a bit of a prissy side to him.   Bulma had to cup a hand over her mouth and turn her gaze out the window to stop herself from laughing like an idiot.  Her chest still rumbled and her shoulders shook with laughter as they rolled onto the main highway, heading for home. At least Bulma had turned this ride into something she no longer needed to dread.  And once she arrived home, Vegeta would be in Oolong’s hands, no longer her problem for a good, long while. Maybe she’d live a recluse lifestyle until Goku returned. Then she wouldn’t have to spend another minute in the car or out in public in close proximity to Vegeta.  At home, he could use Capsule Corp’s high tech equipment to keep an eye on her at all times without ever needing to be in the same room.

As her laughter subdued to quiet mirth and the car’s soft vibration soothed her, Bulma’s mind briefly turned to Chi-Chi, who she’d left in Goku’s hands back in West City.  She hoped that temp local guard, Krillin, handled the hand-off well after Bulma left. She’d hate to hear of anything terrible happening to her friend while Bulma was miles away.  She’d have to check back in with Chi-Chi and make sure her friend was alright – and handling Goku’s brand of awkward well enough. Bulma smiled. Goku wasn’t here, but at least Bulma knew he would keep Chi-Chi safe.  Until Chi-Chi was safe from Babi Dee’s gang, finished putting them all behind bars back in Satan City, Bulma just had to wait it out over here, where she was safe under Vegeta’s protection – hopefully.

 


	3. Out of Bed

He was touching  _ all _ her shit. 

It has been two days already and she hadn’t done a damn thing about it either.  Vegeta knew the woman was bluffing about boarding him with that big buffoon of a chauffeur.  He also knew Goku’s security setup around Capsule Corp was exactly as she said - adequate. But hell if he was going to run security around here grandfathered into that fool’s system.  Vegeta did things his way, which usually proved the best way.

 

When Vegeta ducked out of the bushes, leaving the inconspicuous camera planted behind its branches butting against the building, he raised his brows, impressed with his strategic placement.  Goku’s placement for the camera had been ideal and straightforward, but this new location offered Vegeta a view of approaching cars and pedestrians around the bend leading to Capsule Corporation’s gate, so he’d be aware of any trespassers  _ before _ they were even trespassing.  

 

Vegeta frowned.  He couldn’t imagine how desperate, for money or a meager glimpse of the female physique, a lowlife had to be to resort to breaking into the Brief’s estate.  A real criminal would target a location with a vault. Vegeta knew this woman invested her billions in technology and nontangible assets. It was smart, but smart didn’t stop  _ stupid _ criminals.

 

“Um...Mr. Vegeta?”

 

Pursing his lips, Vegeta turned around to see Bulma’s pig-nosed shrimp of an assistant cowering under his gaze.  “What?”

 

Oolong tapped his fingertips together, his eyes lowered to the concrete path bordered by lush green shrubs.  “Bulma sent me out here to-“

 

“Does your boss always let you address her so informally?” Vegeta said, an edge of taunt to his voice.

 

Oolong’s jaw gaped before his mouth snapped closed.  “Sh-she prefers Miss Brief, but, hey, I thought-“

 

“Then I  _ suggest _ you do something for me,” Vegeta said, smirking, “and if you’re lucky, getting this done will help me remember not to slip your impropriety to our shared employer.”

 

“Wh-but I came out here to tell you-“  as Vegeta grunted and hardened his glare, Oolong gulped. “Wh-what do you need me to do?”

 

“Tell your boss I’ll need a full blueprint to any location of her upcoming events so I can arrange the security detail.  She should’ve given them to me already, but so far she’s failed to procure the documents.”

 

Oolong pursed his lips.  “She’s  _ your boss _ , too.”

 

“What was that?”

 

“N-nothing,” Oolong whimpered.  “I’ll tell her. And she wanted me to tell you-“

 

“Good,” Vegeta said, cutting Oolong off with a wave of his hand.  “Now get out of my face.”

 

“But-“

 

“Now!”

 

As Vegeta turned to the wall, folding his arms across his chest, he listened to the disappearing footsteps of the little man running away from him.  Vegeta laughed, his gaze panning the tall building as he was rid of the skittish assistant’s presence. He couldn’t wait to get away from this glorious hellhole of freakish people the heiress called staff and friends.  Vegeta missed the days of throwing people out of bars and concert halls. He was going to have to convince Bulma Brief to go out somewhere soon so he could satisfy his need for action.

* * *

Vegeta ate a fine, fulfilling dinner alone every night here at Capsule Corporation.  He frowned at knowing he would be sleeping again tonight in the same bed in which Goku slept, but at least the assistant had provided him with his own set of sheets.  Best of all, no one was bothering him. Since his earlier encounter with Oolong, the pathetic assistant wouldn’t come near him. As long as people stayed out of his way, Vegeta would be fine here.  He just needed to get this job done so he could move on to better things.

* * *

Something smelling of fresh cotton batted against Vegeta’s face.  The softness of his pillow molded around the back of his head as he lurched back into it, blinking his eyes open to see a blanket of pink.  His bare legs and free arm thrashed against the silky sheets as he dug his fingers into the stiffer fabric and tried to peel it from his face.  Beyond the veil of pink, the shadow of a figure hovered in the doorway.

 

“Put that on and get up.”

 

Vegeta peeled the material from his face to see Bulma Brief glaring down at him, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, even as her lips turned down into a deep frown.  Vegeta’s arms and legs were splayed across his bed as he lay half-naked in his flimsy boxers. Irritated by the gross intrusion on his privacy, Vegeta scrambled to cover himself with his flimsy sheets.

 

“I can’t  _ believe _ you’re making me wait,” Bulma huffed.  “We need to leave in twenty minutes and I’m willing to bet you aren’t prepared at _all_ for this excursion.”

 

“Excursion?” Vegeta growled, his temple throbbing as he bared his teeth at the obstinate woman.

 

“Exactly as I thought.  I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

 

She began to turn, her blue pixie-cut swishing against the shell of her ear, shimmering in the sunlight streaming from Vegeta’s window.  Vegeta’s upper lip pulled back as he clutched the sheets to his bare chest. He didn’t suppress the growl that rose from his throat, the one he  _ should’ve _ been suppressing in the presence of his employer.

 

“Hey!” he shouted, causing Bulma to stop abruptly, flinching.  “Don’t you know anything about privacy, or do you just assume you  _ own _ everyone who works for you?”

 

“I assume everyone who works for me will do their job,” she sneered, spinning toward him and wagging a finger.  “And when they don’t, I have the right to step in.”

 

“You do not have the ri-“

 

“And you would’ve been prepared this morning if you hadn’t sent Oolong away when I sent him here to  _ remind _ you of my plans!”

 

Vegeta sputtered, his rage short-circuiting as that detail came into play and his gears shifted into work mode. “What... _ plans _ ?”

 

“We’re going to my mother’s botanical gardens.  She had a hair appointment and couldn’t make it to the ribbon cutting ceremony, so I agreed to step in for her.”

 

Vegeta grimaced.  “I don’t like this.”

 

“I’m not writing songs about it either, if that makes you feel any better.  I was looking forward to not having to see your grumpy face for at least the next several days.”

As she swept out the door, her blue wrap dress catching in the doorway and trailing behind her to swish against the swell of her calf, Vegeta ground his teeth.  He had nothing to work with now, and had one of the most insecure environments in the city in which to guard his air-headed client with a regular target on her back.

* * *

 

The home of the botanical gardens of Mrs. Panchy Brief’s patronage was a vast, glass-walled convention center, surrounded by security guards scattered throughout the parking lot, the entrances, and presumably stationed around the interior.  There had to be three or four hundred people making their way from the parking lot to the grand entrance, most of them gathered in a sloppy line at the double doors. Vegeta worked his jaw, his eyes darting rapidly over the faces, what the people were holding, any unusual signs of suspect behaviors which wouldn’t normally be seen at a grand opening for a botanical garden. 

He heaved a heavy sigh, pressing his face against the glass of Bulma’s limo’s car door.  The truth was, he was utterly unprepared for this. He was lacking the necessary tools. For all he knew, the people who would be standing right at Bulma’s side on that stage had a loaded gun with her name on it. If something happened, he’d be left standing there like an idiot.  His career – his  _ reputation _ as one of the best damn bodyguards in the business – would be ruined.  Ruined because this damn woman couldn’t hand him the information he’d asked for.  He’d be ruined because she  _ still _ wasn’t providing him with adequate information.  Sure,  _ she’d _ be dead, but that would be her own fault.

“How many people on the stage?” Vegeta said through clenched teeth, his breath fogging the glass and blurring his sight of the three old ladies walking alongside their limousine arm in arm.

“I don’t know,” Bulma groaned, patting her cheeks with some fluffy thing coated in cream-colored dust.

Vegeta’s growl broke off into a cough as a sickly-sweet fragrance entered his nostrils.  “How am I supposed to protect you when I’m going in blind here?”

“I don’t  _ know _ ,” Bulma said, shooting him a glare as she snapped her compact shut.  “Isn’t that supposed to be  _ your _ job to figure out?  What am I paying you for?”

“My job?” Vegeta sneered, digging his fingers into the door handle at his side and wishing it was Bulma’s wrist.  “You’re paying me to  _ protect _ you, but you expect me to go to this event without-“

“I’ll park here,” 16’s deep, yet soft voice boomed from the front.  “I’ll get your door, Miss Brief.”

“without giving me  _ any _ time to prepare?  No!” Vegeta raised a finger at 16 as he appeared in the window of Bulma’s doorway, leaning down to grasp the handle.  “Don’t you  _ dare _ move.  I’m coming around.”

The affronted look Bulma wore as he slid out his door stuck with Vegeta as he made his way through the humidity and noisy chatter of crowds to reach the door on her side.  He shoved 16 aside and glanced left, then right, to make sure the coast was as clear as it seemed while he walked around the car. There was no sign of danger, and no reproach from the oversized oaf stepping aside with amazing grace for a man who’d just been shoved, so Vegeta pressed his shoulders back and raised his chin as he pulled on the door handle. 

He didn’t bother to make eye contact with Miss Brief as she slipped out of the car, but he could feel her gaze on him all the same.  His teeth cut into the sides of his tongue as he stopped himself from glaring at her. He wanted to wipe that judgmental look off her face which he could see in his peripherals, the one that said she doubted he knew what he was doing.  She had no right to look at him that way. Vegeta prided himself on his preparedness. He was already prepared a month in advance for the upcoming event he  _ had _ been informed about.  As his eyes darted around the crowded scene, he felt as if everyone else judged him, too.  On the rare occasion he made eye contact with one of these civilians, Vegeta would shoot them a glare  _ daring _ them to come near Bulma Brief.  If anyone wanted to challenge him now, they were choosing the wrong time to do it.

“Come on, Vegeta,” Bulma said, waving a manicured hand in his face.  “Unless, of course, you want to stay here and guard the car? I think even a little woman like  _ me _ can protect herself from the flowers.”

Vegeta growled and slammed the limousine door shut with a reverberating crash.  Ignoring the wounded look in 16’s big eyes, he turned heel and followed Bulma toward the side entrance to the botanical gardens, where she could make her way to the stage unhindered by the crowd of passionate, desperate, obsessed fans, who Vegeta  _ knew _ hadn’t come here to see some stupid flowers.  They were here for who was  _ presenting _ the flowers.

As he walked behind Bulma and a suited man with a headpiece strided alongside Bulma, Vegeta looked the man up and down and quickly determined he was no threat.  He was rambling about the event and the procedures Bulma would need to follow to cut the ribbon. Instead of boring himself with those menial details, Vegeta walked silently, trying to understand the obsession of Bulma’s fans. 

He liked knowing the profile of the types who might try to penetrate his security measures and target his clients.  Putting a type on those who would target an heiress wasn’t his strong suit, though. He couldn’t understand them. Other people aside from himself had lives, didn’t they?  They had professions, careers, advancement on their minds. So who would waste precious time of their day attending a boring event like this, just to see a conceited woman like Bulma Brief?  She was impossibly stubborn, superficial and vain. Sure, she smiled a lot, but she was more often than not  _ gloating _ when she spread those glossy lips over her pearly white teeth. They approached a door, held wide open by a man in similar uniform to the one walking with Bulma. 

Vegeta eyed the door’s surroundings as he walked around Bulma and the other man, putting himself through the door before she would cross the threshold.  As he slipped into the cool air of the botanical garden’s sweetly perfumed climate, Vegeta decided all was fine. Bulma skirted around him again, not speaking a word as she brushed past.  The warmth of her soft skin brushed his arm, tingling like electricity against the fine hairs covering his skin. As his hairs stood on end, Vegeta rubbed his forearm vigorously, scowling at the back of Bulma’s head.  The stage was near now, a large platform with potted, thriving plants positioned at every corner and on the steps leading up to the stage. A large red ribbon was held by two metal posts at either end of the stage, draping across the entire length, parallel to the banner hung over the stage reading, “Welcome to the Grand Opening of CC Botanical Gardens”.  Two old men stood onstage, one holding a gigantic, comedic pair of scissors out in front of him, his eyes instantly darting to Bulma as they made their approach to the stage. Again, Vegeta noticed the awed fascination in the eyes of people turning their gazes to Bulma Brief. As applause rang through the air, he cleared his throat and straightened his tie.  This was when the serious business started. The more entertaining the event seemed to become, the more they were moving into dangerous territory. This was the sort of time someone was most likely to make their move if planning an attack.

Vegeta turned his eyes to Bulma.  He caught a glimpse of her dress swaying against the backside of her body while she stepped up the stairs, reaching for the assisting hand of the geriatric man onstage  _ not  _ holding the scissors.  As Vegeta’s eyes skimmed up and down Bulma’s curves, he pursed his lips.  She didn’t have much going for her in the way of personality, but as her blue dress hugged her curves in all the right ways, he had to admit, she had a nice ass.  She had a nice  _ everything _ .  He’d give her that.

“Welcome, lovely lady,” the old man croaked at Bulma as she stepped onto the next stair, her other heel already reaching for the stage.  “We appreciate you taking your mother’s place on such short notice,” he chuckled, a rosy hue covering his cheeks as his crinkled eyes sparked.  “Hey, how about a kiss for good luck?”

Vegeta’s brows narrowed, plunging into the bridge of his nose as his hand shot to his gun holstered beneath his jacket.  The old man reached for the narrow of Bulma’s back while she recoiled. He didn’t wait for her permission. As his wrinkled, puckered lips stretched toward Bulma, Vegeta growled.  It was starting already. He hadn’t expected to need to guard his client from organizers onstage with her, but this was what happened when no one gave him profiles on the attendees.

“Hey,” Bulma hissed, seizing the old man’s wrist in a grip unmistakably tight and painful, given the white of his skin surrounding her fingers and the wince on the old man’s face.  “ _ Touch _ me, and I’ll make a scene so big you’ll never work in West City again.  Understand, Mr. Kai?”

The old man balked, a response catching on his tongue.

“Good,” Bulma said as she released him, making her threatening grasp appear, to anyone further from the stage, nothing more than a handshake.

Vegeta’s jaw fell as his fingers slipped from the grip of his weapon.  As Bulma turned away from the stunned old man, her smile lit her face, but her eyes sparked with domination and power.  She turned toward the applauding crowd and sent her hand into the air for a wave, briefly catching Vegeta’s eye, meeting his gaze with intent.   _ He had nothing to worry about _ , she was saying.   _ She could take care of herself on this stage _ .  Vegeta saw something in Bulma Brief he hadn’t believed to be there before.  He couldn’t be irritated by her gloating demeanor, not when she continued announcing the creative evolution of this botanical garden to her rapt audience as if nothing had just happened.  Vegeta blinked as his hands fell to his sides. Maybe he  _ wasn’t _ needed here.  He shook his head furiously and panned his gaze across the crowd.  Of  _ course _ he needed to be here.  The woman might’ve stood her ground, but she was physically useless against anyone who  _ wasn’t _ a frail old man.

By the time Vegeta’s eyes darted back to the stage, Bulma was cutting the ribbon.  The uproar that followed nearly deafened him, causing Vegeta to clenched his teeth and press a finger to one ear to stop the ringing it started.  He clenched his eyes shut as the ringing went away and the cheering quieted, but when he looked back up toward the stage, Bulma had already slipped away.  He looked frantically to each side of the stage, to the front where she’d entered, but there was no sign of her. As the old man Kai took the stage and engaged the audience, Vegeta grunted and hurried to the back of the stage.  She had to be there. She couldn’t have gone far. He’d never let a client escape his view while in a public setting. Vegeta’s heart raced faster than his feet as he made his way around to the back of the stage and found a crowd.  He pushed his way through it, hoping to find Bulma playing her part in the center of it all, but the only people in this crowd were people that didn’t matter. Growling under his breath, Vegeta spun around, looking for any sign of her.  There was no sign of Bulma, but he did spot that sniveling little assistant of hers.

He ran in front of Oolong, seizing the assistant by the lapel and pulling him out of the conversation he was engaged in with some pretty twenty-something who was only giving him the time of day in hopes of making personal contact with the famous Bulma Brief.

“Where is she?” Vegeta said.

“Wh-who?” Oolong said, before snapping his gaze to the woman balking at Vegeta and turning away.  “W-wait! Don’t go!”

“Bulma!  She was right there on the stage,” Vegeta hissed, pointing a rigid finger at the empty stage.

“Oh.  Oh, I saw her,” Oolong said, his shoulders sagging as he watched the woman walking away.  “She went into the ladies’ room.”

“The ladies’ room?”  Vegeta’s head snapped toward the periphery of the convention center as he once again cursed his lack of information and planning.

“Yeah, you know,” Oolong said peevishly, “where ladies go to use th-I’ll shut up now.”

Vegeta tossed the nuisance away, his warning growl fortunately having been enough to shut Oolong up.  His eye had caught the blue and white restroom sign hanging over the far right wall. There was a good amount of crowd between where he stood and there, and it wasn’t near to the stage.  If Bulma had made it into the ladies’ room that quickly, she had to have bolted in there. She was making a point to evade him. Shaking his head, Vegeta recalled all of her aloof remarks about his guard duty here.  Her gloating smile on the stage when she looked his way. That bitch.

Vegeta pushed his way through the crowd, not caring who grunted and whimpered in dismay at his rough handling.  The child that cried after seeing Vegeta’s face had one hell of a shriek, though. That one Vegeta could’ve done without.  The ongoing cries still pierced his ears when he neared the restroom, a line coming out of it and rounding the corner so a few women stood with their shoulders against the wall. 

Vegeta groaned, sneering as he eyed the opening to the ladies’ room.  He couldn’t go in there. He didn’t have a woman to send in, either. Crossing his arms, he resolved to rest his back against the tiled white wall and prop a foot up.  He would try to look casual, but he was anything  _ but _ .  His eyes scoured the moving line with vigilance, darting toward the entry way at the slightest hint of movement every time someone swept past him.  He memorized the faces of the women waiting in the line. The first one to disappear into the restroom had a chin-length bob of black hair, innocent eyes, and seemed clumsy.  She gave Vegeta an awkward smile before she disappeared from his view. He scoffed and pointedly turned his gaze toward the vacant stage still loaded with flowers. The floral display beyond that ribbon-cutting stage was far more elaborate and florally scented, but Vegeta didn’t care to investigate.  There was no client there. He didn’t give a shit about the flowers.

When another figure swept past him, Vegeta did a doubletake.  His neck snapped back in her direction when he realized he recognized that woman leaving the restroom.  It wasn’t Bulma. Still no blue hair to be found. But it was that same woman – the one who had entered the bathroom while he’d been standing here like an idiot.

“Hey!” Vegeta snapped, seizing the woman by the arm and spinning her around.  “What are you doing?”

She blinked furiously.  “M-me? Going…to the gardens.  Can I help you?”

As she tried to pull free from his grasp, Vegeta seized her tighter, finding a glimpse of amusement in the way her bottom lip trembled.  “Did you see a blue-haired woman in there? Bulma Brief?”

“No!” the woman snapped, glaring and slapping Vegeta’s hand off of her.  “Geez, you creep! Stalking outside the women’s room waiting for a peek of Bulma Brief!”

Vegeta’s jaw dropped.  “No! That’s not wha-“

A broad hand landed on Vegeta’s shoulder.  “Leave the woman alone, Vegeta.”

Vegeta’s eyes slowly skimmed sideways, landing on the monstrosity of a hand daring to touch him.  He released the woman, raising his gaze to send the ridiculously tall man a hateful look.

“You’re looking for Bulma,” 16 said, gauging Vegeta’s look with a wry semblance of a smile.

“Yes,” Vegeta sneered, batting the heavy hand off his shoulder as he turned to meet the taller man’s eyes.  “Yes, I am, since my entire job description is to  _ keep _ an eye on her.”

“She asked me for the keys before she slipped through there.  I haven’t seen her come out, either.”

“No,” Vegeta breathed, his eyes going wide.  “The _limo_ _keys_?”

He turned for the nearest exit, not wasting another second with any of Bulma Brief’s goons.  The parking lot wasn’t far, but if Bulma had as much of a headstart as Vegeta thought she did – Vegeta roared furiously, running over a moron stooped down in the middle of the walkway to tie his shoes.  Vegeta pushed people down as he headed for the exit sign, knowing what he was likely to find out there. She was taking the limo. She was driving herself out of here solely to prove some dumb point. Vegeta had  _ no _ patience for clients daring to put themselves at risk just to make him look bad.  He’d never felt this ridiculous on a job before. The entire spectacle of running from place to place, unawares of what his client was up to from the start of this event to the very end of it was a colossal embarrassment.

Vegeta  _ refused _ to be humiliated. 

When he found that woman, he would make her pay.  At this point, he didn’t even care whether she was safe anymore.  If she made it away from this event unscathed by stalkers, there was a good chance she would meet her end at Vegeta’s hands.  When Vegeta flung himself through the exit door, he emerged into the bright sunlight. He had to shield his eyes as they adjusted and the humidity closed in around him.  Through blinding specs of flashing light, Vegeta couldn’t locate the limo. The damn driver had parked it and Vegeta didn’t even know where to begin to look. He hurried forward, letting his eyes adjust as he made some sort of forward progress.  Something bumped into him.

“Oh!” a woman cried as soft hands patted at his chest.  “You must be Bulma’s new bodyguard! She told me to look for an angry, short man in a suit,” she said with a giggle.

Vegeta blinked as an older, but attractive woman’s face became clear to his vision.  Her blonde hair was coiled on her head and she wore a floral sundress, as bright as the smile on her face.  Vegeta grimaced. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t have time for this. If Bulma sent this woman, it was just another diversion that the bitch had planted.

“Listen,” Vegeta groaned, “I don’t know who-“

“Ooh! she cooed, placing her hand in Vegeta’s palm.  “Allow me to introduce myself! I’m Panchy Brief, Bulma’s mother.”

Vegeta gulped.  This woman was one person he  _ couldn’t _ refuse talking to.  She was paying his salary and the Briefs’ words of recommendation would be necessary if Vegeta was ever to work another security job in West City again.  He was not resorting to work in a town where crooked judges ran things. The thought of swallowing his pride and going anywhere outside this city for work put a vile taste in his mouth.  He looked at Mrs. Brief, still smiling at him, looking oblivious. If she knew he’d lost track of her daughter, she might decide to suspend his salary indefinitely. Vegeta couldn’t waste time here, but he couldn’t rush off and hint to her that anything was amiss.  He scowled at the woman as he gathered the right words to say to rid himself of her without alarming her. Judging by her dazed smile, he doubted he could alarm the woman. It was hard to believe she was related to the brilliant woman who’d actually managed to escape Vegeta’s watch.

“Pretty, hm?” she said.

Vegeta blinked.  “Who?”

She giggled.  “My botanical gardens, of course.  Do you like all the pretty flowers we’ve curated?”

Her fingers crept up Vegeta’s forearm, kneading at his muscles in a way that made him feel like a piece of meat.  It was only his forearm, but he still grimaced and tried to pull away. Her grasp tightened as she pressed her body against his.  Vegeta’s brows rose to his hairline as a trickle of sweat coursed down his temple. This felt borderline inappropriate.

“My, you really are strong, aren’t you?  Just like Goku!”

Vegeta groaned and tugged his arm futilely, his eyes scouring the parking lot behind her.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

“That must be a common trait for you bodyguards, but I didn’t think good looks were,” Mrs. Brief said with a giggle.  “You’re a _ handsome  _ one like Goku, too!”

Vegeta raised a brow, his upper lip pulling back in a sneer.  “What?”

“With all of these big strong men around, I don’t know how my husband keeps me to himself!”

Vegeta felt a knot in his stomach.  Regardless of how it looked, he pried himself away from the ditzy old blonde.  He couldn’t take another second of her idiotic babbling. Or her hands. He certainly didn’t want to imagine her behaving this way with Goku or get any picture of what thoughts were rolling around in that woman’s head now.  Fortunately, she seemed unfazed by his rough handling.  She raised a hand and waved after Vegeta walked off, casting one last glance over his shoulder. He thought Bulma Brief only  _ chose _ to surround herself with idiots and freaks.  Apparently, it wasn’t all by choice.

But running away from here and making him look bad  _ had _ been a choice.  One for which she was going to pay.

 


	4. On the Phone

He never found the car.  Bulma Brief thought she had him beaten.  She didn’t know who she was playing with here.  Bulma might’ve won the battle, but Vegeta  _ always _ won the war.  He didn’t bother making any contact with Bulma after returning to Capsule Corp.  Both out of fear of what he would do to her, and out of need to exact his revenge, he was best left alone.  This was not a good time to lose his source of income. There would  _ never _ be a good time to bow down to a woman and return with his tail between his legs, either.  So Vegeta was going to do what he knew best – he was going to fight. As Vegeta entered the newly encrypted security code into the rear gate, he hummed.  The remote sat in his palm like a hearty weight of reward. No one would be able to enter  _ or leave _ this fortress now.  Capsule Corporation was now Vegeta’s domain.

“Miss Brief asked me to ask you,” called a meek voice from the grass behind him, “if you had a pleasant ride back?”

“Did she now?”

“Please…” Oolong whimpered.  “Don’t kill the messenger.”

“Tell her,” Vegeta said with a creeping grin, “I hope her  _ drive _ was pleasant.  Because it’s the last one she’s going to have for a long time.”

“Um…what?”

Vegeta turned around, tilting his head as he took in the furrowed brow of the trembling assistant.  He tsked. The woman didn’t even have the nerve to face him after pulling that stunt. She had the nerve to  _ goad _ him about it, but she had to send a messenger to do her dirty work for her.  He should’ve known she was a coward. She was weak and fragile. She just liked to  _ pretend _ she wasn’t.  The rich and famous had no idea how rough life could be.

“Hey listen,” Oolong said, raising his hands and taking a step back, “I don’t have to tell her anything, if you don’t want me to.  We could just pretend we never had this conversation.”

“Oh but I  _ want _ you to.  Tell her everything I said, my exact words.”

“O-okay.  I mean, I could-“

“Go!”

“Y-yes!”                                        

Vegeta cackled.  The stubby legs of the running assistant didn’t carry him far fast, but it was amusing to watch him moving his fastest.  It was more amusing imagining the woman’s reaction to his message. Vegeta turned around one last time, admiring the solid gate bordering the compound of Capsule Corporation’s lands.  The results of his handiwork were fantastic. Bulma wouldn’t be able to leave now if she wanted to, and if she thought he would take his eye off of her long enough for her to slip away  _ this _ time, she was sadly mistaken.

* * *

“My codes for the pool gate aren’t working.”

Vegeta smiled, the morning sunlight warming his face as it streamed through the kitchen window.  His client couldn’t bother him this morning. If anything, her commentary accompanying his breakfast was an improvement to his breakfast.

He scooped another heap of oatmeal, speaking into his bowl.  “Planning on swimming today?”

“Yes.  Yes I was,” she huffed as she plopped into the seat at his side.

“You should’ve asked.”

“Since  _ when _ ,” Bulma said, leaning down to send a blue-eyed glower from Vegeta’s eye level, “do I need to ask to use my own pool?”

“Since you’ve proven you can’t handle yourself.”

“ _ Excuse _ me?”

Vegeta smiled into his oatmeal, appreciating its sweet, subtle aroma.  “I needed to bump up security.”

“I  _ told _ you, Goku’s security worked perfectly.”

“It didn’t work yesterday, did it?  You were almost killed.”

“I was not almost killed.  I went out to the car, drove home alone, was followed by no one, and returned to my complex where there was not a single threat.”

Swallowing, Vegeta turned his head slowly to meet Bulma’s gaze with a glare.  “I’m not talking about intruders. I’m talking about me.”

Bulma’s jaw fell as the satisfying look of fear entered her haughty gaze.  Now Vegeta could see the little girl hiding beneath her façade of absolute control.  He felt his lip twitching into a smile as he went for another scoop of oatmeal and wrapped his lips around the warm spoon.  Bulma’s staggered breathing was like music to his ears as he ate. Her hands pulling back from atop the table to sink down by her sides as she eased back from him were victory enough for him this morning.  His oatmeal tasted delicious.

When Vegeta met her gaze, he was surprised to see that petrified look flee her expression as she raised a brow.  “You’re fucking with me.”

Vegeta choked.  His oatmeal lodged halfway down his throat.  The woman’s demeanor had changed in an instant, and she wasn’t afraid of him.  She continued sitting next to him, unaware of the fact that he absolutely  _ could _ kill her in an instant, and if it was yesterday rather than today, absolutely would  _ want  _ to ring her neck.  There was no joke about this.  There was no joke about choking either.  He pounded his fist in his chest as he’d seen Goku do on so many occasions, willing the lodged oatmeal down.

“Oh!  Are you okay?” Bulma said, rising just as the oatmeal dislodged and Vegeta gasped for air.

“Stay away!”

He sent her a glare, warning her not to move any closer.  She’d been poised to reach for him. Only over his dead body would Vegeta  _ let her _ save his life.  She returned to her seat.  Vegeta scoffed, glaring into the bowl of his traitorous breakfast.

“Dammit!”

“Vegeta, I’m sorry,” Bulma said quietly.  “If you’re  _ that _ upset about yesterday-“

“I’m not upset.  I’m doing my job.  Protecting you.” He sent Bulma a stern glare.  “This is nothing but a job, and if you think anything otherwise, you’re fooling yourself.”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy,” Bulma said, crossing her arms.  “Then can I go take a swim now?”

“Of course, but don’t be longer than twenty minutes,” Vegeta said, reaching for the remote set on the table at his side.  “I’ll open the gate.”

“You’ll-“ Bulma blinked at his fingers touching the remote, “you’ll open the gate?   _ My _ gate?   Vegeta, I’ll swim as long as I damn well want to.”

Vegeta shot her a sidelong glare.  “If left there too long, you might slip beneath the water and disappear.  I’m only doing this for your protection, Miss Brief.”

Bulma’s lips parted before her eyes narrowed.  “I said I was sorry about yesterday. Can’t a girl have a little fun?”

“Not on my watch.”

“So that’s how it is, huh?”

“That’s how it is.”

“ _ Unlock _ my pool gate,” Bulma growled, “or you’re fired.”

“Fine,” Vegeta snapped, pressing the digits of the code until the gate outside the window creaked open.  “Is that how you solve all your problems, Miss Brief? If only I could threaten to fire people when they don’t do as I say.”

“No,” Bulma said, narrowing her eyes further.  “You threaten to  _ kill _ them.  It’s much less eloquent, but I’m guessing equally effective.”  She stood and turned her back on Vegeta before marching to the glass door.

“I’ll leave the pool gate unlocked, but it’s not on me if you drown out there.”

“Fine!”

“But the other gates will remain locked at all times.”

Bulma stopped abruptly.  “What?”

“You do what I say,” Vegeta said, “or you have no security.  If you want to fire me, good luck with the fools that are out there.”

“I’ll hire Goku back.”

“From what I hear,” Vegeta said with a grin, shoveling the rest of his oatmeal from his bowl, “he’ll be busy in Satan City for a while.  Criminal cases don’t just resolve quickly.”

“You should know, huh?”

Vegeta inclined his chin.  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Bulma scoffed.  “You know, you’re overreacting.  I promise what happened yesterday won’t happen again, okay?”

“If you can’t handle going out and following my protocol, you won’t be leaving the complex  _ at all _ .”

“Come on,” Bulma said, changing her tactic as her lips slipped into a smile and her eyes batted at him coyly.  “So I slipped away.  _ You _ must’ve been glad not to have to worry about me.  You didn’t even want to be there.”

Vegeta’s brow twitched.  He slammed his hand on the table.  “This is my  _ job _ .  You might not take your security seriously, but this is what I do, and I never do anything substandard.”

“I can respect that,” Bulma said with a shrug.  “But you’ve gotta remember I’m not in danger like Chi-Chi is.  Everything is relatively safe here. So you should take it easy.  Stop being so uptight.”

“Take it easy?” Vegeta snorted.  “Just because I don’t let things slide like some careless, sorry excuse for a professional bodyguard you  _ might _ be used to, it doesn’t mean I’m uptight.  It means I’m efficient and I know what I’m doing.”

“Goku  _ isn’t _ substandard.  He’s an excellent bodyguard  _ and friend _ , and probably the only person I’d trust to look out for one of my best friends.”

“Well I’m not  _ Goku _ ,” Vegeta sneered, gripping his hand into the metal of his spoon until it hurt.  “This is the way  _ I  _ run security, and if you can’t get used to it, you’re  _ really _ going to wish for Goku to return soon.”

* * *

Bulma was losing a lot of sleep since Vegeta took over as her personal bodyguard.  She had kept quiet about it all night last night, and even through the morning, because the only people she could talk to about this had bigger problems.  Goku was getting acclimated to a new major city, which Bulma knew was never easy for him. He would also be getting acclimated to Chi-Chi’s attitude and resistance toward the whole bodyguard thing.  She hadn’t warned him what he’d be in for. But then, maybe she  _ would _ have, if he’d told her he was trading positions with the guy she tried to hire.  Chi-Chi had a case to work on, men out to kill her, and  _ Goku _ to deal with.  Bulma’s mother was involved in overseeing her newly-opened gardens.  Besides, she was too flighty, distracted by Vegeta’s attractiveness so much that she completely overlooked everything he was doing to ruin Bulma’s life.  Her father, most often closed up in his lab, was even more aloof than her mother. And the household staff – well most of them were more scared of Bulma than they were of Vegeta.  They were good for giving orders, nothing more. 

Vegeta.  Vegeta was the  _ last _ person Bulma wanted to talk to.

So Chi-Chi it was.  Bulma dialed her number, willing to bet that Chi-Chi would have some complaining of her own to do, so she’d be willing to make the exchange.  When the phone picked up after a couple of rings, Bulma drew in a long breath of air. The sound of Chi-Chi’s voice greeting her on the other end of the line was music to her ears.

“Chi-Chi!”  She hesitated, feeling awkward when she didn’t realize what was best to address first.  She couldn’t dive straight into her problems. “How-uh-I’m just so glad to hear that you sound safe right now.”

_ “Of course I’m safe,” _ Chi-Chi said, the bang of a cabinet shutting sounding in the background.   _ “How are you doing, Bulma?  I didn’t expect to get a call from you so soon.” _

The suspicion in Chi-Chi’s voice couldn’t be missed.  Bulma cringed, knowing Chi-Chi could see right through her reason for calling.  With a huff, she figured to hell with it. If Chi-Chi knew already, there was no need to hold back.  Chi-Chi expected a vent, so Bulma was going to  _ give _ her a vent.  Bulma highly doubted Chi-Chi knew it was Vegeta she needed to vent about.

“I’m not great, Chi-Chi,” Bulma said, folding her free arm over the one holding the phone as she paced her bedroom.  “In fact, I’m pretty ticked off. My new guard is a total asshole, just as I thought. I’m practically a prisoner in my own home.  He’s not even apologetic about it!” Bulma paused, grunting at the continuing sounds of slamming cabinet doors likely making her words unclear to Chi-Chi.  Shaking her head, she continued, “I mean, okay, so I saw him nearly naked the other day. That was a nice treat. But did he have to have such a fit about it?  No! And then I take him to my mother’s botanical garden grand opening, which, mind you, he didn’t even want to go to any more than I did, and now he’s punishing me for running out of there?  Like  _ he _ wouldn’t do it, if he’d had the chance.” 

Bulma scoffed.  Chi-Chi didn’t respond.  Another cabinet door slammed before Chi-Chi groaned in Bulma’s ear.  This wasn’t like Chi-Chi. Chi-Chi always offered some sort of sympathy or consolation to Bulma’s problems.  The only reason Chi-Chi would be distracted enough not to offer her feedback was if something more immediate had her attention (which Bulma doubted was the case, judging by the slamming cabinet noises and groaning) or if something serious was on Chi-Chi’s mind.  Bulma immediately thought of Chi-Chi’s dangerous situation. Then she thought of Goku.

"Chi-Chi!"  Bulma growled.  “Have you heard anything I've just said in the past ten minutes?"

_ "Sure.” _

Bulma wasn’t fooled by Chi-Chi’s quick answer. Chi-Chi wasn’t listening at all.  Something was on Chi-Chi’s mind, and Bulma was willing to bet it was more serious than a pain-in-the-ass bodyguard.

"What's got you so distracted over there that you would let me carry on complaining about this arrogant, infuriating - actually really hot -  _ asshole _ ," Bulma paused to put the emphasis on asshole because that was what this phone call was all about anyway – she couldn’t let herself get too distracted by his chiseled abs, "without stopping me?"

"N-nothing. It's nothing.”

Bulma heard the thump of a door closing as Chi-Chi paused.  Bulma waited. She knew Chi-Chi would spill the dirt. The girl couldn’t lie for shit.  And judging by the amount of slamming and pacing she was doing, she needed to vent about something.  Pursing her lips, Bulma decided this was anger, not worry. This was definitely about Goku, not the killers out to stop Chi-Chi before she could bring Majin Buu to justice.

Bulma sighed after giving Chi-Chi sufficient time to come clean.  "What is it?”

Chi-Chi’s end of the line filled with the noise of her ransacked cupboards. When something slammed loudly, making Bulma’s ear drums echo, Bulma winced.  Clenching her teeth, she restrained herself from growling at her perturbed friend as she spoke her name, "Chi-Chi..." 

_ "Where the hell is he?" _

Bulma felt her jaw tighten.  She suspected she knew exactly who Chi-Chi was talking about, but if her assumption was right, she was pissed.  She was paying Goku to watch over Chi-Chi and keep her safe. She was tolerating Vegeta’s irascible presence solely for the purpose of sacrificing Goku to Chi-Chi to keep her friend alive.  Giving Goku the benefit of the doubt, she decided to ask first rather than jump right in with her assumption. She would ask, and if Chi-Chi didn’t have a reasonable answer, Bulma was going to let loose and lace into him, because it was about time she seized the opportunity to rip  _ someone _ a new one.  Might as well be Goku.

"Who?”  She gave Chi-Chi one second to answer and when nothing happened, blasted, “Goku left you alone?"

_ "He sure as hell did!" _

"That unreliable moron!  Not only has he failed to call me even  _ once _ to apologize for deserting me, leaving me in Vegeta’s calloused hands, but now he’s not even doing what I pay him to do over there!  You’re in danger without protection! Doesn’t he realize that? Doesn’t Goku understand the severity of professional hit men out trying to kill you?  That bastard! He’s supposed to keep you safe, the idiot! What is he thinking? He’s thinking about himself, isn’t he? Just like Vegeta protecting his perfect track record.  All men are assholes, Chi-Chi! Why, when I get my hands on that Goku-“

_ "Alright, Bulma! Enough!" _ Chi-Chi sounded extremely upset.  _ "Can we please talk about something else?" _

Bulma grunted, surprised by the quiver in Chi-Chi’s voice.

_ "Talking about being alone here," _ Chi-Chi said with a sigh,  _ "is only making me more nervous." _

"Well..." Bulma drawled before stuttering, feeling at a complete loss as to what to say now that her rage was turned up to an eleven but going on with her rant was out of the question, "what else is there to talk about?" 

Chi-Chi hummed, her mood suddenly sounding much different.   _ "You'll never guess who I ran into today. Literally." _

Bulma frowned.  "Who?"

_ "An old flame of yours. Yamcha." _

"Yamcha?”  Bulma blinked, surprised to hear her ex’s name, while also relieved to know that Chi-Chi had calmed down with the change in subject.  “Really?...Did he ask about me?"

_ "He did, actually. I gave him your number." _

"Oh,” Bulma said as she glanced at the clock, shrugging at the idea of contacting him again. 

She and Yamcha were long over, but it couldn’t hurt to reconnect and rekindle the friendship.  She figured she shouldn’t mind if he called. It had been nice, those school days when she and Chi-Chi would spend time around him.  She couldn’t deny that they’d had their good times as well as their bad. Then again, she’d been a teenager then. She’d grown a lot over the past decade.  She wondered if Yamcha had done the same. Bulma gnawed her bottom lip as her eyes returned to the clock on the wall. It was getting late. About time for dinner.  As Bulma’s stomach wrenched with hunger pangs, she worried she might run into Vegeta in her kitchen.

_ "I'm meeting him for coffee tonight, actually.  I have to leave just before eight." _

Oh.  Yamcha.  Right. Going out for coffee with  _ Chi-Chi _ ?  Wait.  At eight o’clock?  Bulma’s eyes widened.  "Chi, it's 7:45."

_ "I know." _

A coffee date would be good for Chi-Chi.  But it was seven forty-five. And dark outside.  And dangerous for her to roam the streets alone in Satan City.  "You can't go out there alone with all those mobsters looking to whack you!"

_ "Thanks for the encouraging words, Bulma," _ Chi-Chi muttered.

"I mean it!” Bulma said, wishing Chi-Chi knew where Goku was so she could get out there and get some.  As far as Bulma could see, her workaholic friend had been desperately deprived in that department recently.  “Goku needs to get back there so he can walk you out safely and you can get there for that coffee. It's been a while. You could use a little 'coffee'."   Bulma giggled at the thought of her naïve friend catching onto the meaning of that suggestion.

_ "Bulma, it's just coffee." _

Bulma blew a raspberry. "Coffee is never just coffee."

_ "You...wouldn't feel uncomfortable with me going out with...?"  _ Chi-Chi trailed off uneasily.  _ "I mean, given your history?" _

"Chich'," Bulma said, stressing her friend’s name with a roll of her eyes at the idea of her fabulous, grown-woman-self being hung-up on _Yamcha_ , "Yamcha was my high school sweetheart. I really loved him- _at that time_.  I am so over him now, though. You can _take_ him." Bulma paused, thinking just how important a move like this was for Chi-Chi, weighing it against the danger, before adding, "as a matter of fact, you _should_ take him."

_ "Bulma." _

"That means now.”  Bulma’s eyes darted to the clock again as the minute hand closed in on the hour.  “You'd better go. It's almost time for your date."

_ "Bulma, I-" _

"Forget about Goku. Just go."

There was a hesitation on the other end, which Bulma just knew was Chi-Chi thinking of backing out.  And knowing Chi-Chi, it wouldn’t be for fear of the danger. She could be a real terror on the streets herself, when caught in the wrong mood.  Chi-Chi was the only friend Bulma had who could’ve insisted on  _ not _ having a bodyguard hired for her in her current situation.  But she had one now. And the loser wasn’t doing his job. Bulma was  _ so _ going to call Goku as soon as this conversation was over.

Bulma smiled, knowing just the thing to say to goad her friend into playing along.  “There's not much worth taking a risk like that, but a booty call definitely qualifies."

_ "Bulma!" _

Bulma laughed at the high-pitched shame evident in Chi-Chi's voice. "Now, go! Just be careful!"

A note of worry betrayed her, finally edging Bulma's voice, but it seemed like Chi-Chi bought it.  She was thinking about it at least. The lack of outright rejection was a good sign. 

_ "Alright, Bulma." _

Bulma beamed.  "Bye. Fill me in on all the dirty details later.”

As she hung up the phone, Bulma felt giddy.  She was happy for Chi-Chi. A little envious, too.  It would’ve been nice to have a hot date to look forward to, but no, she had to have Major Strict guarding her at every waking moment.  With a growl, Bulma looked into the reflective screen of her phone. Her change in mood and growing hunger reminded her. This was the perfect time to phone Goku, give the jerk a piece of her mind, and send him after Chi-Chi.

Goku’s cheerful voicemail message greeted her, even on her second attempt.  Coward. He wouldn’t pick up because he  _ knew _ he was in deep shit.  Goku couldn’t avoid Bulma forever.  She’d get him soon enough.

But first, she had another out-of-control bodyguard to deal with.  She didn’t know how yet, but she was going to get him for this mistreatment. No one locked Bulma Brief in her own castle.

 


	5. In Control

It had been two weeks since Vegeta laid down the law, asserted his dominance, and took control of this domain.  

...so why was it that  _ he  _ was the one clawing at the walls, dying to be free from this torture chamber of an estate?

For one thing, there were those birds twittering endlessly in the background.  He could hear them now, no doubt pleasing their simple-minded, oversized master.    _ Cheep, cheep, cheep.  Cheep, cheep, cheep _ .

“Vegeta!”  The overly-familiar call of Bulma’s old man stepping out of his lab on a rare occasion made Vegeta cringe.  “Nice weather we’re having today, isn’t it?”

Vegeta couldn’t justify that dumb question with an answer.  He sneered as the old man passed him, adjusting his glasses and petting the stupid black cat that had managed to creep into Vegeta’s bed and scare the living daylights out of him a few nights ago.

Then there was Dr. Brief’s equally brainless wife, who would latch on and cling to Vegeta at every turn.  Vegeta tensed as he shot a glance over his shoulder, worrying she would appear from around some corner of the building.

What he  _ saw _ at the corner made Vegeta growl.  Bulma’s little creep of an assistant was watering the flowerbeds, once again using the task as a ruse to peep into Bulma’s bedroom window.  Vegeta didn’t know why it should bother him. As long as it wasn’t  _ his _ bedroom window.  But it bothered him more with each time he saw it, and this time his rage was boiling.  Everything here bothered him, but he supposed this one struck him more powerfully because it was something he could  _ do _ something about.  He could take his frustration out on Oolong and be completely justified.  Vegeta stood, feeling his blood stir, finally, after days of boredom. It was about time.  He would have his long overdue release.

Oolong fell over before something slammed loudly and blue hair popped out from the wall of Capsule Corporation.  “Oolong! You pervert!”

As something flew at Oolong’s head, Vegeta balked.  The assistant fell, crying out as he wrapped his hands over his head.  His injured head. Injured by someone  _ else _ \- Bulma.  That  _ woman _ .  

Of all the things infuriating Vegeta about this place, she was the worst.  She’d been jabbering on and on for the past week about some ex-boyfriend she’d reconnected with, spending nearly every waking hour on the phone with a guy who sounded like a doofus.  She was always there. She seemed to find amusement in being a nuisance to Vegeta whenever he sought a semblance of peace in this crazy hellhole. She knew what she was doing too. Now, worst of all, she’d stolen his  _ one _ opportunity to punch somebody without losing his job.  Vegeta marched up to the pig, the blood coursing through his veins.

“For the last time,” Bulma yelled from her window as Oolong crawled to his feet, “stay away from my window!  Let  _ 16 _ water those ones!”

“But,” Oolong moaned, rubbing his head, “16’s a driver.”

“I  _ know _ what he does!  Are you telling me what to do with my staff now?”

“N-no,” Oolong whimpered at the voice which, Vegeta had to admit, sounded pretty damn intimidating.

The window slammed with a collision that shook Capsule Corp’s foundation and Vegeta’s nerves. Vegeta ground his teeth as everything grew quiet, save for the whimpered complaints of Bulma’s assistant.  Vegeta stormed past the window, shoving the pig-nosed fool out of his path and casting a glare at the vaguely-silhouetted shapely figure inside. There was no way to outlet his rage toward a possibly naked woman, but he was furious.  This place was a living hell. He was a bodyguard, for Kami’s sake! He should’ve been clashing fists and beating down thugs on a regular basis instead of babysitting this prissy heiress. Maybe Goku  _ didn’t _ take such a bad tradeoff.

Vegeta’s phone rang, vibrating in his pocket.  He stopped along the path, alone for once, willing to pick it up.  Until he saw the caller ID. With a groan, Vegeta swiped his thumb over the red button.  He growled as he continued forward. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know what he was going to do, now that he’d confined himself to this place.  But he sure as hell wasn't doing it while having a conversation with Goku.

When his phone rang again, Vegeta groaned.  That idiot was relentless. Vegeta should’ve known he wouldn’t stop.  Reluctantly, Vegeta answered the ringing phone.

“What?”

_ “Hey Vegeta!  How’s the job going in West City?” _

“Fine.”

_ “Things were crazy over here, but they’re pretty quiet now.  This Majin Buu is some powerful guy. You handling Bulma alright?” _  He chuckled.  _  “I know she can be a-“ _

Vegeta pried the phone from his ear and hung up.  He didn’t need reminding of how much fun Goku was having on  _ his _ duty.  He didn’t need reminding of what a handful Bulma was.   _ Was he handling her alright? _  It seemed Bulma Brief was handling him.  Vegeta cringed at the thought. But she certainly could handle herself.  He was beginning to wonder if she even needed a bodyguard. For someone with no self-defense skills, she had an intimidating enough presence to ward off any potential attackers.  No one in their right mind would go after that woman after seeing her in action.

No one –except Vegeta.

Vegeta wasn’t scared of anyone.  But he was fed up. He’d had enough.  This arrangement had to stop, but it had to be stopped  _ right _ , or she’d think she won again.

* * *

He found her, pacing her room in a flowy red daydress that moved as gracefully as she did, a phone propped to her ear as usual.  The dress hugged her curves in all the right ways, sliding along the planks of muscles and swells of fat that made up her womanly figure.  Her short hair was perfect as always, shining beneath the dull overhead light. She was probably having another heart-to-heart with Yamcha.  Vegeta felt his eyes roll in the back of his head as he made his way into the room, but when Bulma growled at her receiver, cursing Goku’s name, he felt a little better.

It was one of  _ those _ calls.

Along with spending time talking to Yamcha, Bulma had been trying to get ahold of Goku.  She’d become livid every time his name was mentioned, due to something that had happened in Satan City.  Vegeta could care less what that was, but he found amusement in imagining the phone call which was bound to happen between those two.  Goku couldn’t run away from her forever. As much as Vegeta couldn’t stand Bulma right now, he couldn’t wait to see her rip Goku a new asshole.  He almost felt bad he hadn’t sought Bulma and given her the phone when Goku called him the other day.

Bulma scoffed as she threw the phone to her bed.  “Coward! I know you’re avoiding me! You’re going to have to face up to me eventually.”

Vegeta folded his arms, smirking.  “Do you always have conversations with dead phones?”

“Oh!” Bulma said, spinning around to face him with her wide blue eyes.  “Vegeta. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Of course not,” Vegeta grumbled, “that’s why  _ I’m _ the bodyguard.  Anyone could enter this room and you’d be unaware until it was too late.”

“Oh really, hot shot?” Bulma said with a sly smile.  “Because I’m pretty sure you’re dead where you stand right now, if I wanted you to be.”

“Dead where I-?”

With a pert giggle, Bulma pointed to the ceiling over Vegeta.  He looked up. A red laser shined in his eye. Hissing, he looked away, drawing another giggle from Bulma.  He furrowed his brows as he looked to her finger drawing along the curve of her footboard, where the faint edge of a red button stood out.  Vegeta gasped.

“Didn’t know I had my own measures of security around here, did you?”

Vegeta’s eyes darted to the laser still shining on him.  “Is that what you want then? Me? Dead where I stand?”

“Oh, no,” Bulma said, her brows drawing together, her chest rising slowly.  “I want you very much alive.”

Vegeta licked his lips, trying to quell his breath from quickening under her lascivious gaze.  He had to be imagining what she was insinuating. This was his client. This woman hated him. A mere second ago, she threatened his life.  Yet standing in her bedroom, just the two of them, with her blue eyes glazing over, locked on him as if he was the only thing in the room, Vegeta couldn’t shake the feeling that she wanted him.

“Now, what were you here for?” Bulma said, her eyes lighting up as she smiled.

“Hm?”

“Do you want something, Vegeta?”

Vegeta furrowed his brows, looking away from her as he stuttered and tried to regain his bearings.  He couldn’t remember what he was doing here. Something about her phone call. Or maybe it was the security in her room.  It was all a tangled web in his mind, these past few minutes of activity. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the swell of her ass under that red dress.  He  _ wanted _ something.  But he knew that wasn’t what he was here for.  As Bulma picked up her phone again, giving him a dismissive shrug, he finally remembered.  Bulma’s thumb danced across her phone screen before she pressed the device to her ear.

“I remember,” Vegeta said quietly.

“What?”

Vegeta cleared his throat.  “I can see you need to break free from Capsule Corporation, and I think you’re prepared to behave now with restraint and prudence,” Vegeta said, maintaining an air of power and control by speaking of  _ her _ need to leave, not his.  “So-“

“Goku!” Bulma exclaimed, a smile breaking across her face before her eyes narrowed.  “How dare you keep avoiding my calls! What have you been  _ doing _ over there?  Have you forgotten everything from your training since you left West City?  Chi-Chi told me all about you abandoning her the other night, so don’t even  _ try _ to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Vegeta grit his teeth, clenching his fists by his sides.  “Bulma.”

“Majin Buu tried to kill her!  Can’t you get that through your thick skull?  Okay. But what good is tracking him if you’re leaving her unguarded while you do it?   _ Krillin? _  Ha!”

“Bulma,” Vegeta growled.

Bulma shot him a look, listening intently on the phone.  “To be honest with you, Goku, I don’t know if I can trust you to handle this alone anymore.  I want to know the money I’m investing is going to pay off. Like,  _ not _ have to worry about hearing about my best friend’s death in the news.  You’ve got it.” She shot Vegeta a smile. “I’m coming to Satan City to see Chi-Chi win this trial for myself, and Vegeta’s coming with me, whether he likes it or not.”

Vegeta’s jaw dropped.  Satan City was the  _ worst _ .  He’d refused that job there because there was legal involvement with this prosecutor friend of Bulma’s, which meant guarding  _ her _ would involve interacting with others in the legal system.  And Vegeta  _ hated _ that slimy judge who’d had the city named after him, who’d locked him up once on bogus charges.  The guy was weak, unimportant, and conceited. But in Satan City, he held too much power. It was a wonder at all that Bulma’s friend could practice law in that city.  Majin Buu’s gang running the streets and having near-successful attempts on the life of a guarded city prosecutor proved it well enough.

Wait.

There was action over there.  All of the action Goku was keeping to himself, that Vegeta was missing out on over here, could be found if he’d overlook his disgust with that city and join Bulma.  Besides, he was already roped into it now. He didn’t have grounds for putting up a fuss. Bulma would insist on taking him anyway. No matter what Vegeta might say or do, Bulma would make sure they went, because that was the type of strong-willed woman she was.

He could fight her tooth and nail on this, up to the day of arriving in Satan City.

And still find some great fights once he arrived there.

“That’s right, Goku,” Bulma said, nodding.  “I’ll have Oolong book the flight. We should fly out in about a week.  Think you can keep an eye on Chi-Chi until then?”

Vegeta chuckled.  Bulma raised a brow at him as he rubbed his hands together.  This last week at Capsule Corporation was going to be payback.

* * *

Bulma yawned and stepped out of her room.  Her bare feet padded across the smooth wood floors as she made her way to the kitchen, where she would find coffee.  Her father was always up at the crack of dawn, and always had a pot brewing. Without the caffeine-providing sustenance, Bulma would never be able to function in this world.

Another yawn tore from her lungs as she rounded the corner, drawn to the familiar smell wafting from the carafe.  Strangely enough, when she opened her eyes, her mother was sitting at the dinette table. Smiling at her. Her hands clasped on the tabletop. 

Raising a brow, Bulma turned for the coffee pot.  “Good morning, Mom. What are  _ you _ doing up so early?”

“Early, dear?” Bulma was soothed by the sound of the pour as she filled her ceramic mug.  “It’s nearly eleven o’clock already.”

Bulma blinked.  “Eleven? Wow, I really slept in.”

She ran her fingers through her matted bedhead as she brought the mug to her lips.  Turning her back on the counter, Bulma sipped as her eyes lifted to the clock, which confirmed it was indeed eleven already.  The clock looked different somehow.

“Did we get a new clock?”

Her mother hummed.  “I went shopping. The old one was no longer available, so I needed to replace it.  This one isn’t as straightforward, and it’s a little harder to read, but I think it’s growing on me.”

No longer available?  Bulma raised a brow at her mother’s docile expression.  That was an odd remark regarding their kitchen clock, but she was going to let that one slide.  This  _ was _ her mother, after all.

“Is Dad off to the lab already?” Bulma said, turning her gaze to the spinning ceiling fan.  “Hm, maybe I should start packing for Satan City. We still have a week to go and it’ll only be for a few days, but a girl can never be too prepared.”

“What do you think of the face, honey?”

“What?”

Her mother nodded toward the clock.  “Is it attractive?”

Bulma scratched her cheek as she turned her eyes to the clock.  The round face was a brassy metallic, dotted by white lines around the edges and two white hands circling its circumference.  There were no numbers, only enlarged lines. It seemed cold. Hard. Straightforward. Sexy, in a streamlined way, but not her mother’s usual style at all.

“I mean, I guess so?”

“It was a short sale, so I wasn’t too sure about it myself at first.  But then when I took a really good look at it, it was gorgeous. I had to have it.  It’s harder to tell time on, but it’s growing on me now, I think. Really, though, Bulma, I think it might be the perfect clock for you.”

Bulma laughed before sipping her coffee again.  “I never knew you were such a clock enthusiast.”

“Oh,” her mother drawled, a smile creasing her lips, “I am an enthusiast of all cocks.”

Bulma choked, her hot coffee rising from her throat like bile.   _ “What?” _

“ _ You _ should know a good cock when you see one,” her mother continued.  “You’ve been talking to Yamcha again, haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And then there was Goku, and I know there was never a thing between you two, but you have to admit there was potential there.  He was quite a looker.”

Bulma raised a finger.  “The only times I’ve seen  _ his _ cock were purely accidental.  Wait.”

“And now you have Vegeta.  My, what a face.”

Bulma scratched her head and plopped her mug on the counter.  “Wait. What are we talking about here?”

“Vegeta.”

“We are?”

“Of course, honey.  He’s the one with the hard face, the chiseled body, the rough appearance you couldn’t look past at first glance.”  Bulma knit her brows, horrified by hearing  _ her mother _ speaking so eloquently.  “But you have to admit. He’s shiny and new.  And absolutely breathtaking once you look past those rough edges.”

Bulma felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Her mother was right, wasn’t she? Bulma had noticed his rock-hard abs that morning she’d walked in on him, which she couldn’t get out of her mind.  Not to mention his bulging – well her mom had said “cock”, hadn’t she? How the hell could  _ she _ know Bulma had been thinking about the size of that morning wood she saw through the tent of his boxers?  Bulma felt her cheeks go red right as she felt her lady parts tingling and engorging with the thoughts of Vegeta and his rip-me-apart body.  It might’ve been compact, but it was solid as hell. She was willing to bet that rod between his legs was equally solid.

“Oh!” her mother cooed, tilting her head to look past Bulma.  “And here he is now.”

Bulma whirled on her heels, knocking over her coffee mug with the heel of her hand.  “What?”

Vegeta was standing right behind her – now in front of her.  He moved in closer, a smile edging across his lips. His breath danced across her face as his lips drew apart, heating her already-warm cheeks before warming her lips.  Bulma jutted her tongue out, wishing this was happening more under her control, but willing to go along with it all the same. Some part of her thought Vegeta might attack her, but judging by the bulge pressing against her stomach, she was willing to bet he wouldn’t.

Vegeta’s dark eyes burned into hers with a burning passion like Bulma had never seen before.  “What do  _ you _ think of my rough edges, Bulma?”

Exhaling through trembling lips, Bulma gathered a response.  “I...I’d like to get beneath them, to your core.”

The waistline of Bulma’s pajama bottoms loosened before they were replaced by the warmth of Vegeta’s hand plunging beneath her panties.  Bulma moaned, whimpering when his calloused digits touched her, just right, vigorous, but not too rough. She froze, recalling her mother in the kitchen.  She didn’t dare look over there. Vegeta’s ministrations continued. His husky chuckle hit Bulma’s ears.

“Vegeta…”

“Don’t mind her,” Vegeta said before placing wet lips in the junction between Bulma’s neck and shoulder.  “Let her watch. If you’re going to get to my core, I’m getting into  _ yours _ first.”

A finger plunged between Bulma’s wet folds, filling her with an incredible tension that made her toss her head back as Vegeta’s lips continued fondling her neck.  She shivered, unable to stop him, but unable to let this carry on this way. It was all wrong. She wanted Vegeta in her bed. Or to be in his. Ohhhh but she wanted Vegeta.  She couldn’t stop it now that it had begun, regardless of where this was happening. His fingers stroked deeper as Bulma parted her thighs, giving him deeper access. She leaned back into the warm spill of coffee dripping off the ledge of her countertop.  She put her hand on Vegeta’s chest, needing to feel some of him like he was feeling her.

“Oh, god…” Bulma said as she squeezed the bulge of shirtless muscle, the nipple beneath it taut against her palm.

“That’s it, honey,” her mother said, causing Bulma to freeze.  “I knew you wanted that cock.”

Bulma sat up with a start.  Cold sweat trickled down the back of her neck.  Her hair and clothes clung to her skin. When she moved to swing her legs over the side of her bed, she felt her thighs glide against each other, absolutely slick with moisture.  She rubbed her head and moaned as she plopped her feet on the carpet.

“Oh, fuck,” she mumbled.

She was all hot and bothered now.  She looked to the bathroom. She needed to finish herself off after  _ that _ .  Her mother wouldn’t be around to see Bulma getting off this time.  No one ever had to know she’d be thinking of Vegeta while she made herself cum in the middle of the night in her bathtub. 

“Oh, god,” Bulma said as she staggered to the bathroom, feeling like a cat in heat.

She couldn’t believe Vegeta could have such a strong effect on her.  The man had been nothing but trouble since he’d come into her life. Hot trouble.  Sexy trouble. Dangerous trouble. But if he was in her room right now, she’d bang the shit out of him.

Thinking from the dream Vegeta to the real Vegeta, Bulma gnawed her bottom lip and decided that wasn’t going to happen.   That uptight, ornery asshole was never going to lay a finger on her. When he thought of action, he thought of the kind that happened outside the sack.

“Nice cock, yeah,” Bulma said as she turned the faucet and watched the bathwater pour into her tub.  “If I’m ever going to get past those rough edges with  _ Vegeta _ , that’ll be a real miracle.”

Vegeta didn’t have to be on board for Bulma to have her fantasy.  She could work herself up just fine with his imaginary cock. 

He never had to know she wanted it.

 


	6. At the Table

Vegeta’s eyes darted side to side as he read over the page.  He’d thought a book about war could quell his need for fighting, but this was nothing like the satisfaction he gained from planting his fist in someone’s face, breaking someone’s nose, making someone bleed.  These pages were dry, stark white, and boring. He slammed the book shut. When he looked up, he found Bulma staring at him. Intently.

 

“What?” he snapped.

 

“Nothing,” she said, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, looking like she was concealing a smile.  “Just looking at the clock.”

 

Vegeta furrowed his brows as he turned around to look at the clock on the wall behind him.  It was telling time, as usual. Scowling, Vegeta turned to face Bulma. Something was very wrong with her today.  The woman was acting crazy.

 

Vegeta raised a brow.  “...and?”

 

“It’s two o’clock.”

 

“Which means...?”

 

Bulma shot to her feet.  “Time for my masseuse. I’d better get ready.  He doesn’t like it when I keep him waiting at reception.”

 

As Bulma skirted past him, Vegeta turned in his chair.  His eyes darted to the side to read the clock again, which actually read two-sixteen.  If she had an appointment, she either was already keeping the masseuse waiting, she’d scheduled it for an odd time, or the woman didn’t know how to tell time anymore. Or she’d just plain lost it.  Or she was lying about the entire appointment to cover up the fact that she was staring at Vegeta, as he thought.

 

“What the hell’s gotten into her?” he wondered aloud.

* * *

 

Bulma didn’t see him again until dinner time.  Usually, her in-home employees dined apart. Bulma usually didn’t even dine with her own parents.  But tonight, they’d requested that she have dinner with them, and she’d obliged. Only, she didn’t expect Vegeta to be there when she arrived in the dining room.

 

Her eyes narrowed as her pace slowed on her way into the room.  Bulma cast her mother a sideways glare, feeling she had something to do with this.  Only, Bulma wasn’t sure whether it was her mother’s desire to ogle attractive men or her desire to set Bulma up (as if she wasn’t attractive and capable enough to setup a date on her own) that caused her to summon Vegeta to join them in the dining room tonight.  Already, Bulma didn’t like this. Nothing good could come from it.

 

“Vegeta,” Bulma said, careful to avoid his gaze to save herself from recounting that dream and getting flustered, “you don’t have to be here.”

 

“Tell that to your mother.  I didn’t volunteer for this.”

 

Bulma slid into her chair as she snapped her gaze in Vegeta’s direction.  He was sitting with his legs crossed and arms folded, in a chair pressed against the far wall behind her father’s head-of-the-table seat.  It was a nice chair, but still. He looked uncomfortable. Well, he was a bodyguard. Her bodyguard. He didn’t need to be comfortable. He made no effort to ease anyone else’s comfort, his mere presence spreading tension through the dining room.  Bulma shot her mother a glare. All she got in return was an oblivious smile.

 

“Shall we eat?” her father said, raising his silverware and licking his lips.

 

Bulma had to admit, their dinner smelled delicious. As a servant pushed a cart past her, full of all the yummy goodies her parents had undoubtedly requested, Bulma moaned.  She drew in the scent with a long inhale, closing her eyes. When she opened them, her eyes darted to Vegeta. He was staring at her, stoic, impassive, and unmoving.

 

“What?” Bulma snapped.

 

“Dammit,” Vegeta grumbled, averting his gaze toward the window behind him.

 

“Ooh, thank you Sweetie,” her mother said to the server scooping a heap of potatoes into her plate.  “This looks delicious!”

 

“Sure does,” Bulma said, shooting Vegeta a glare.  “Pass some of that this way, Mom.”

 

“Oh, but maybe Vegeta wants some, honey,” her mother answered, placing her fingers to her lips as she turned toward Vegeta.

 

“No,” Bulma said, reaching for the bowl.  “He doesn’t.”

 

She hoped he’d leave.  If she behaved unpleasantly enough, if he got hungry enough, he would leave the room in a huff as he usually did.  He wouldn’t have to bend to her mother’s awkward invitation. Bulma could eat in peace, with a break from having to put on an act for him.  She could not eat her meal with him in the room, casting occasional glances at her with those dark, brooding eyes.

 

“Actually,” Vegeta said, “I do.”

 

When he stood from his chair, his eyes locked on Bulma’s.  A challenge. He approached the table, never averting his gaze from hers.  When Vegeta pulled out the empty chair across from Bulma’s and sat in it, the musk and woodsy scent of his cologne wafting across the table, Bulma narrowed her eyes.  

 

She grunted.  He scoffed.

 

Bulma crossed her arms.  “Don’t you have perimeter checks to do or something?”

 

“If anyone wants to kill you while you eat, Bulma,” Vegeta said with a tug of a smile on his lips, “you’ll want your bodyguard at the table.”

 

“The only person in danger of being assassinated at this table is sitting in front of me.”

 

Vegeta chuckled, before Bulma’s father cut him off with a clap of his hands.  “Very good! Vegeta, I worried you wouldn’t be able to take care of my daughter the way Goku did-“

 

Bulma lowered her head into her hand.  “Dad, please don’t say it like that.”

 

“-but I think you’ve got our Bulma figured out!  This might be the first time I’ve ever seen her not getting her way.”

 

Bulma shot an affronted glare at her smiling father.  “And that’s a good thing?”

 

“Bulma,” her mother said with a giggle and wink at Vegeta, “don’t get upset, Sweetheart.  All this yelling isn’t attractive.”

 

Bulma shot to her feet, practically foaming at the mouth as her eyes darted between her parents’ faces.  This was too close to her dream. Her mother was not going to push her into Vegeta’s arms - or Vegeta’s bed, for that matter.  If she wanted him, she’d throw herself in there of her own free will!

 

“Attractive?” she yelled.  “I don’t want to be attractive for him.  He’s my bodyguard, that’s it! The guy’s leaving as soon as Goku’s done with this job for Chi-Chi.”  She turned her glare to Vegeta. “We’ll never have to see each other again.”

 

“Good!” Vegeta said, throwing down the napkin he’d set on his lap.  “I won’t have to stand much longer if you crazy people here. Especially you,” he said, pointing at Bulma, “and your mood swings, and your strange looks, and your infuriating attitude!”

 

“My infuriating attitude?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Ha!”

 

“Um...” Mrs. Brief’s smile turned nervous.

 

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Bulma said, swiping her plate of steaming food off the table.  “You don’t have to hear any more of this. I’ll be eating in my room tonight.”

 

“And I’m leaving!” Vegeta said, storming out of the dining room.

 

Bulma froze.  “What?”

 

Vegeta threw a hand over his shoulder as he rounded the corner, out of sight.  “I don’t need this shit! I’m going to find some action!”

 

He was actually leaving.  Leaving the compound, leaving her unprotected, walking out and leaving her.  Bulma’s eyes bulged as she ran out after him, watching his back disappear down the hall as her fingers burned from holding the hot plate.  She chucked it at him, food and all, and it crashed and splattered against the wall, shattering into pieces and dropping food on the wood floors.

 

“Good!  Get out of here!” Bulma yelled as he continued walking out, unscathed and unflinching after the crash.  “You jerk!”

 

She crossed her arms as she watched his figure disappear into the shadows.  When he turned down another hall, he was gone. Maybe for good. Bulma rubbed her hands up and down her arms as she wondered whether Vegeta’s idea of action could possibly be anything like hers.

 

She doubted it.  But a girl could dream.

 

And tonight, she would – unless she could get some real action first.

 


	7. At the Bar

The noise was tremendous.  Lousy musicians, guffawing drunkards, yelling idiots everywhere Vegeta turned.  This place was perfect. Vegeta needed a good fight to take out his aggravation with that crazy woman he couldn’t lay a finger on, and without a doubt, he would find one here.

Vegeta growled as he paced through the bar with his hands balled into fists at his sides.  He couldn’t believe he’d been reduced to this behavior. Never before had a woman antagonized him to this degree.  Bulma was getting under his skin like an elusive splinter that only dug deeper and deeper the more he clawed away at it.  He didn’t want her embedded there, getting inside him, finding a place in his life. But he couldn’t scrape her out, and trying only made it worse.  He needed to extract her another way. Punching someone else sounded like a great place to start.

Vegeta scanned the bar.  Dark wood lined by filled bar stools took up the length of one side of this seedy establishment.  Drinks were scattered across it like feed thrown to hungry animals. These people were animals, all of them.  But if Vegeta wanted to pick a good fight, he needed to find the right one. The old man at the end looked weak and useless.  One with a couple women gathered around him acted tough, but Vegeta could bet he was a pushover who would only agree to fight Vegeta to show off in front of his women.  The man passed out drunk with his head resting in his folded arms was a hard pass. But when Vegeta’s eye reached the end, he found someone meeting his gaze. The man with muscles bulging from his rolled-up sleeves and hair tied back in a braid didn’t look so tough physically.  But judging by the glare he shot Vegeta, there was more to him than met the eye. The man tapped the shoulder of the big goon drinking next to him, and when that man turned to set his pock-marked face and bared teeth toward Vegeta, Vegeta knew he found his punching bags. Shooting them a smile, he sauntered forward.  His fists grew tighter at his sides, but there was a bounce in his step now. Soon, he would release all this aggression and feel so much better about his situation doomed to Capsule Corporation and the woman who waited on his protection there.

“Hey, You!” Vegeta called over the volume of the music and loud voices between them.  “You’re sitting in my seat!”

The men laughed, exchanging unamused looks and words Vegeta couldn’t hear.  This only made Vegeta angrier, but that was good. Now his anger wasn’t only misplaced.  He had a reason to want to punch the handsome man’s pretty face in, and bust the big guy in the gut.  No one mocked him without paying for it.

“I’m sorry,” the man with the braid said, scratching his smooth-shaven face as Vegeta came closer, “were you talking to us?”

“Because these are our seats,” the wide man grumbled, slipping from his stool to crack his knuckles.  “So get lost, Shorty.”

As the more handsome of the two laughed, Vegeta growled, nearly spitting through his teeth.  “You’re going to regret that.”

“You hear that, Dodoria?” the younger man said with a toothy grin.  “I think he just threatened you.”

“This nobody?” Dodoria laughed.  “Don’t make me laugh. Oh. Too late!”

The wide man guffawed, giving Vegeta the perfect opening he needed.  His guard was down, his friend’s guard was down, and his posture was sloppy and wide.  Vegeta drew his fist back and sank it into the warm tub of flesh.

Dodoria cried out, bending over and holding his hands to his stomach.  “You...fuck!”

“Son of a bitch!” the other man yelled, looking to Vegeta with a glare unable to hide the alarm he felt.

“Get him, Zarbon,” Dodoria said through grit teeth, clutching a trembling hand over the edge of the bar with clear intentions of coming after Vegeta again.

The surrounding patrons moved away, giving Vegeta and the other two men wide berth to continue this fight.  The bartender yelled across the counter for them to take it outside, but if he wanted that to happen, he was going to have to make them.  Vegeta wasn’t moving. It didn’t look like those two were either - except toward him.

The one named Zarbon lunged at Vegeta, swinging a fist so fast that Vegeta saw the whites of his knuckles up close just before he moved out of the way.  With the next hit, he wasn’t so fast. Something struck him in the kidney, shooting pain up his sides and through his insides. Vegeta cursed through his teeth before swinging his arm behind him to land a hit on Zarbon’s exposed temple.  He chuckled when his fist collided with bone. 

Now this was what he was here for.

“Come here, you prick,” Zarbon said, yanking his fingers through Vegeta’s hair.  His fist pulled back as he sneered at Vegeta and forced him to raise his chin with a painful tug of his hair.  “This is our bar!”

Zarbon threw his fist forward.  Vegeta’s teeth, his lip, his cheekbones, his nose...all pulsated with the pain, throbbing immediately.  He could taste the coppery blood from his tooth cutting into his lip, feel the moist blood leaking from his nose.  Pain was not the problem. The problem was that Vegeta was losing ground here, and he did not come here to lose, to make a spectacle of himself.  He was a god damn bodyguard - the best. He could handle these two. It didn’t matter that he was outnumbered. 

The foot planting into his back said otherwise.  

Vegeta was thrown to the ground, skidding across the hard ground and placing his hands in the sticky spills of old drinks as he crawled up to his hands and knees, ignoring the throbbing in his back.  He reached for a bar stool only inches from his head, and found it rocked away from him. When he looked up, Zarbon was standing over him, tilting the bar stool just out of reach. Mocking him. At the sound of rumbling laughter, Vegeta shot a glare over his shoulder, where Dodoria stood with his arms crossed, tilting his head in admiration of his handiwork.  Vegeta growled. They laughed again. 

Vegeta shot to his feet, no longer needing the assist to get up.  He was pissed.

“Vegeta?”

He froze, blinking with his fist raised.  That voice. She couldn’t be here. She was supposed to be safe at Capsule Corporation.  But as Vegeta blinked again, he knew he hadn’t imagined it. That was Bulma’s voice. 

He whirled toward her voice.  “Bulma? What in the hell are you doing here?”

“Bulma?” Zarbon said, turning to follow Vegeta’s gaze, smiling as his eyes landed on the beautiful woman gaping at them with wide, blue eyes.  “Bulma Brief.”

“Zarbon,” Bulma hissed his name, her eyes filling with fire as her hands went to her hips.

Vegeta’s eyes darted between them.  “You two know each other?”

“You could say we dated,” Zarbon said, admiring his manicure, or maybe checking to make sure his knuckles weren’t bleeding.

Bulma crossed her arms.  “You  _ could _ say he got a little too liberal with his hands on the one date we had and had to be thrown off the premises by my last guard.”

Zarbon’s eyes darted side to side.  “I don’t see that monkey suit of yours now.”

“Goku isn’t my guard anymore,” Bulma said.  “Vegeta is.”

“Then maybe you want to get out of here, beautiful?” Zarbon said, sending Dodoria a teasing grin.  “See just how liberal these hands can be.”

As Zarbon stepped toward Bulma, Vegeta seized him by the shoulder.  He dug his fingers into a pressure point, intent on inflicting Zarbon with the worst pain possible.  Zarbon had not only mocked Vegeta tonight, but now he was overlooking his capabilities as Bulma’s new bodyguard.  He was threatening Vegeta’s client right in front of him. He had scared Bulma in the past, and he was antagonizing her again.  Vegeta wouldn’t let the creep anywhere near her. He wouldn’t even let him speak another word to Bulma.

* * *

Zarbon hissed after Vegeta grabbed him, sinking to his knees.  Bulma gasped. She didn’t know what to do. Vegeta could be in danger.  He could have complete control - if he did, part of Bulma wanted to run over there and get her hits in.  Zarbon was such a prick. He was a hot prick, but a prick nonetheless. Vegeta could be a prick in his own way, too, at times, and he was just as hot.  Seeing one hot guy subjugating another hot guy on her behalf was exciting. She could...stand back and watch. Vegeta didn’t need her help. As Zarbon moaned, writhing and clenching his eyes shut, Bulma fanned her face.  Vegeta’s look was so intense as he shuddered his arm, his muscles tensing as he inflicted more pain on Zarbon.

“Hey,” the fat guy behind Vegeta balked.

“You stay the hell back,” Vegeta hissed, his glare never leaving the back of Zarbon’s head.  “I’m dealing with him now. You’re next.”

“I’m next?” the fat man balked.

“Yeah, that’s right, ugly!” Bulma called, immediately regretting her words when the hideous man turned his eyes on her, his gaze more threatening than Zarbon’s.

Bulma clapped her hand to her mouth, stumbling back into a table as she tried to put distance between her and the very strong, very drunk, very mean man she’d just pissed off.

Vegeta met Bulma’s eyes, scowling.  She knew he was annoyed by the position she’d just put him in, and rightfully so.  Now he had both men pissed off, and the one behind him wasn’t going to wait for him to take his time beating up Zarbon.  As Vegeta turned his eyes to Zarbon, Bulma suspected it was the fact that Vegeta had to make this a rush job that really upset him, not something else.  

Zarbon raised his head, fighting Vegeta’s lock to meet Bulma’s gaze.  “Bit-“

Vegeta threw an elbow into Zarbon’s temple, knocking the bastard out cold.  Bulma shuddered. She wasn’t sure if it was from fear of the violence occurring in front of her, or the excitement of watching Vegeta in action.  Her eyes darted to movement behind Vegeta. The other guy.

“Vegeta!” Bulma called, pointing.  “Look out!”

She grit her teeth as Vegeta turned, too late, right into the guy’s spring-loaded fist.  Hissing through her teeth, Bulma watched Vegeta go down, his eye swelling already as he hit the ground beside Zarbon’s crumpled form.

“Bastard,” Vegeta growled, his voice muted by the hard floor into which his face was pressed.  “You’ll pay for that!”

Vegeta sprang at the large man.  Bulma’s eyes bulged as she stumbled backward again, clutching the table again and not letting go this time.  As the large man was knocked onto his back, bringing Vegeta down with him, Bulma inhaled a staggering breath.  The thud that sounded when they hit the ground made her wince. Surely, Vegeta had to need help by now. Even if he took down the big guy, he had been hit.  That had to hurt. They started wrestling, growling and tearing at each other. 

Bulma started toward them.  When Vegeta’s head popped up, his left pec exposed gloriously to her eye as the big man’s stubby fingers yanked him down by the collar and tore the material away, Bulma stopped, her jaw dropping.  Vegeta’s glare hardened, his eyes filled with a rage like Bulma had never seen before, before he pulled his leg back and pounded his knee into the big man’s side. He did it again and again, drawing that knee back and smashing it against the groaning and screaming larger man, until the groans, screams, and flailing of his arms all came to an end.

When Vegeta drew back his knee again, locked into a maddening rage, Bulma darted forward.  “Vegeta! Stop!”

He tensed.  He didn’t move, but he didn’t lower his arm or relax his leg.  Bulma knew if his opponent even flinched, Vegeta would hit him again.

He didn’t have to, though.  He had to know that. He wouldn’t be the easiest man to talk down from a fight, Bulma could see that.  This wasn’t Goku, who she could just call away and know he would leave the man down, but able to get himself home.  Bulma foresaw Vegeta besting these men until they were hospitalized, all because...could it be on account of her? Bulma didn't know what might’ve transpired before she walked in here and found them fighting, but she felt it had something to do with her.  Somehow, this was her fault. Vegeta met her gaze, with his good eye at least. His left eye was swelling shut, turning a deep shade of purple.

“Vegeta,” Bulma said softly, moving forward now that she could see the big man wasn’t getting up.  “Let me drive you home.”

As she reached for his arm, hoping to offer him a helping hand, he tore loose from her grip.  “I can drive myself to your home!”

He stumbled onto his feet, swaying unsteadily as he tried to stand upright.  Bulma propped her hands on her hips and sent him a glare. He couldn’t be further from capable of driving himself home.  The man was bleeding and could barely stand. She’d get some blood in her car, unfortunately, by helping him. But that couldn’t be helped.  Vegeta might not want to admit it, but what he’d done tonight was chivalrous. He’d put that jerk, Zarbon, in his place for ever treating Bulma like an object.

“Come on,” Bulma groaned, hoisting Vegeta’s weight over her shoulder, trying to ignore the sweaty heaving chest pressing against her side.  “Let’s get out of here.”

Vegeta groaned and struggled, but Bulma held tight.  “Knock it off, woman! You’re not even supposed to be out here.”

“I could say the same for you,” Bulma huffed, before pausing to give Zarbon a glare as they passed him.  Anger overwhelmed her before she kicked his shoulder. “Serves you right, you perv!”

Vegeta scoffed, sounding weary.  “You’re ridiculous.”

“No, you’re ridiculous,” Bulma snapped, trudging forward with considerable effort toward the door.  “You rudely left my dinner table, and for what? To come here? Did the smell of greasy bar food actually lure you in, or were you just looking to make new friends?”

Bulma paused at the door, not needing to open it when a middle aged man eyed her with a smile and held it wide open for her.  She passed through the doorway without giving the man a second glance. She noticed a hum from Vegeta - he sounded amused by her dismissal.

“Vegeta,” she said as she trudged through the dark parking lot, feeling secure only because she spied 16 spotting her and opening her car door.  “Promise me you won’t do something stupid like this again.”

“What? Fight?” Vegeta snorted.  “Yeah, right.”

With 16’s help, Bulma heaved Vegeta through the car door.  “No, pick a fight. It was stupid and you know it. You put me in danger.”  Bulma plopped into the seat beside Vegeta, the door banging closed behind her.

“Did I tell you to follow me?”

“No,” Bulma said slowly, turning her gaze to the back of 16’s head as he started the car.  “But you should’ve known I would.”

Vegeta snorted.  “Right.”

Bulma clawed at her kneecaps, solemnness drawing her to silence.  It was just sinking in, how dangerous that interaction was. Yes, she could’ve been injured, or worse, groped by Zarbon or some other asshole in that bar.  But Vegeta was the one who’d been in real danger. He’d put himself there. Bulma looked at him. Vegeta’s eyes were locked on her when she turned, full of a suppressed sorrow she didn’t know he could feel.  There was something else there, too. He was looking at Bulma. For a moment, she felt like they were the only people in the world.

“Promise me,” she urged.

Vegeta sighed.  “Fine.”

“Good,” Bulma quipped, smiling as she turned away from Vegeta’s bruised eye and busted lip, “because we only have a few days left to pack for Satan City, and I’m not letting you ruin that trip or show up too bruised and battered to be helpful.  Goku might need you.”

“Yeah, right,” Vegeta scoffed.  “There’s something you don’t understand about us bodyguards.  We work alone.”

“That’s not true,” Bulma said, cocking her head.  “What about the secret service?”

“Pansies.  Real bodyguards work alone.”

Bulma snorted.  “Okay, Vegeta. But don’t you think there will come a time where you need to work together, pride aside?”

Vegeta laughed.  “Pride aside? Were you drinking before you came to this bar?”

Bulma batted her eyes, flustered at the realization that she had and was caught, and angered by the fact that he was insinuating her suggestion could only be made by a drunk person.  She had no defense, though. Throwing aside her pride was something she’d never want to do. She could argue with him, but she knew he had the higher ground on this topic. He’d only box her into a corner if she argued.  With a scoff, Bulma reached into her purse, still set on the car floor. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lighter, preferring the pack to Vegeta after she put one stick to her lips.

“Cigarette?”

Vegeta laughed.  “No witty retort?”

“Do you want it or not?” Bulma said, working her lips around her cigarette as she struck the lighter.

“Eh, what the hell,” Vegeta said as he plucked the pack from Bulma’s grip.

Bulma drew her first drag, savoring the sensation of the drug hitting her lungs, calming her from the anger she felt building at Vegeta’s single jab.  That man did something to her. She cast him a sidelong glance, the smoke dancing like a curtain between him and her as she watched him light up and crack open his window.  Her eyes wandered to his lips pursed around the cigarette. Her eyes glazed over as she took another drag and recalled that crazy dream about Vegeta. She wondered what those lips would be like pressed against hers.  His chest was still exposed, more still and calm now, but just as taut with muscle and perfectly built. His jawline was chiseled, and from this angle, he looked absolutely flawless.

Bulma wanted to kiss him.  She didn’t want him chastising her or biting her head off for making a move toward him.  She’d had enough for tonight.

She turned toward her window, blowing smoke out into the passing breeze.  “No, thank you.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bulma said, before calling to the front, “16, straight back to CC, please.  I’m ready to call it a night.”

 


	8. On the Lip

Vegeta kneaded the heel of his hand into his good eye.  He didn’t want to look at the other one staring back at him in the mirror.  It was a painful reminder, in more ways than one, of his own weakness. When he saw himself in that mirror, he didn’t look like a winner, a man in control, a bodyguard worthy of calling himself the best.

 

He sighed as he opened his eye again to see his swollen, blood-crusted lip gleaming in the sunlight streaming from the bedroom window.  Something sank in the pit of his stomach as he remembered Bulma arriving in the midst of the brawl. She had looked so vulnerable, standing there.  Vegeta had failed her as a bodyguard. Bodyguards were supposed to keep their clients away from dangerous situations, not lure them into them.

 

Vegeta reached for the faucet, twisted it, and placed his palm beneath the stream of cool water.  He splashed water on his face, the coldness of it refreshing, but the moisture stinging his injuries. The sting was a good reminder. A reminder to be vigilant, to focus on doing his job.  They were going to fly out soon to a place where real danger was likely to confront them. That damn Satan City.

 

“Vegeta!” 

 

Vegeta groaned.  It was her. This was a slight improvement, her waiting outside his room to call on him, but he could’ve done without the early morning interruption.  He wasn’t ready to face the social brigade of all those people inhabiting this compound with him.

 

“Vegeta, are you in there?”

 

Vegeta growled, glaring at his reflection.  “Where the hell else would I be?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bulma called facetiously, “running off to another bar to get your face pounded in again.”

 

Vegeta sprinted out of the bathroom, to the bedroom door, and threw the door open in her face.  “I did not get my face pounded in. I was the one doing the pounding.”

 

Bulma inspected Vegeta’s face with a raised brow.  “Oh, I can see that.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

Bulma giggled.  “You know, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

 

Vegeta balked.  “I am not flustered!”

 

He couldn’t believe this woman was laughing in his face.  After everything that happened last night, he thought they had a deeper understanding of one another.  But now his client was mocking him, finding joy in his shortcomings. She was such a bitch.

 

“Relax,” Bulma said with a roll of her eyes.  “I see that brow twitching. I’m just playing with you, you know.  Really. Watching you kick that creep, Zarbon’s ass was a highlight of my week.  How did you know about him anyway? Those incidents were before you were even hired to my case.”

 

Her past with Zarbon.  “I didn’t,” Vegeta said.  “Not before last night.”

 

“Hm,” Bulma said, raising her brows.  “Lucky break, I guess. Ooh!”

 

Vegeta retreated from Bulma’s hand flying at his face, but it wasn’t fast enough.  He grimaced when he felt her soft touch against his chin and saw the bow of concern highlighting her brow.

 

“You’re bleeding,” Bulma said as she stroked her thumb over his injured lip, giving him pain and an alluring sensation at the same time.  “Let me look at that.”

 

Vegeta gripped her wrist, pulled her hand away.  “No.”

 

“Don’t be a baby,” Bulma said, brushing past him, entering his room, “I’m an excellent nurse.”

 

Vegeta turned, gaping at her back as Bulma showed herself into his open bathroom, not even hesitating to ask permission.  There could’ve been something private in there. Again, she gave him no privacy.

 

“Dammit, Bulma!”

 

“What?” She was stooped in front of the lower cabinets, rifling through its contents. “Here.  Give me your lip.”

 

“Oh, I’ll give you some lip, all right,” Vegeta growled, sliding in behind her.

 

He wanted to scare her off, insult her, offend her, scream at her.  But when she turned to him with a tube of ointment in her hand, a pink flush to her cheeks, a smile on her lips, and a dazed look in her eyes, he stopped himself.  He realized his threat could be taken another way, and judging by Bulma’s reaction, she not only took his words and movement toward her as a proposition, but was open to it.

 

Vegeta hadn’t expected that.  

 

He stared at her.  She smiled and eased forward, leaving just enough of a gap between them to avoid touching.  Vegeta licked his lip, tasting the blood, feeling the rough texture of his scab. Bulma’s pink lips, on the contrary, looked silky.  Vegeta was willing to bet they’d taste like something delicious and uniquely Bulma, maybe with a hint of that coffee she drank every morning and had undoubtedly consumed before coming here to bang on his door and barge into his room.

 

“Vegeta,” Bulma breathed, pausing to catch her breath.  “I, uh...I think it would be better if we do this...on the bed.”

 

Vegeta felt his blood pressure rise, both to his head and to his nether region.  The bed. He hadn’t taken a woman to bed with him in a long time. And this woman - she was beyond sexy.  Vegeta’s chest heaved as he drank in the supple curves of her cleavage peeking out from her red t-shirt, the way her tongue jutted out to lick at her pouty lips.  His eyes wandered down her frame to the curve of her waist and the swell of her hip, her pant waistline visible beneath the hem of her t-shirt, inviting his eye to wander into the dark gaps and his imagination to run wild with what other curves and valleys he’d find below those tight-fitting jeans.

 

Vegeta placed his hand on her waist, taking a resettling breath once he let it rest there to absorb the warmth and feel of her bare skin.

 

“Don’t be afraid,” Bulma said, shooting him a wink.  “I won’t hurt you.”

 

“Hurt me?” Vegeta let his hand slip from Bulma’s waist as he cocked a brow at her.  “You should be worried about me doing the hurting.”

 

“With that bad boy?” Bulma asked, sliding her knuckles against Vegeta’s lip in a mock punch, “you’ve got a lot to worry about when it comes to me.  If this were Goku right now, he’d be running for the hills.”

 

“I’m  _ not _ Goku.”

 

“No,” Bulma said, the smile wiping from her face as she regarded Vegeta.  “You’re a whole different bodyguard.”

 

Bodyguard.  

 

This was his client.  Vegeta shook his head, coming to his senses.  Fucking the client was the worst thing he could possibly do.  If emotional investment started when danger arose, screwups happened.  Feelings were the start of all failure, and Vegeta would be damned if he’d ruin his reputation and everything he’d worked for for some succulent, tantalizing piece of ass.  Even if she looked at him like that, like she was now. She wanted him bad - Vegeta could see the longing and hunger in her vivid blue eyes.

 

Maybe he could - just for the sex.  No emotions, no attachment.

 

But when he looked into her eyes again, he saw there was more there than sexual desire.  It was too late. The woman had feelings for him, and regardless of how he felt about this, sex would only strengthen those emotions and complicate things further.

 

With a deep breath, Vegeta pushed Bulma away. “I can’t do this.”

 

“What?” Bulma called as Vegeta rushed past her, leaving his room in nothing but pajama pants.  “Vegeta!”

 

Vegeta punched the wall as he passed through the hall.  He wanted to punch himself as a realization fell over him like a two-ton car.  He’d lied to himself back there. He didn’t take that woman up on her offer because  _ she _ had feelings for him.  It was  _ his  _ feelings that were stopping him.  His stupid, traitorous feelings. It was already too late for him to protect her adequately.

* * *

Bulma plopped on Vegeta’s bed.  She dropped the tube of ointment at her side and smoothed her hands over the soft coverlet as she stared dead ahead at the blank wall.  She read his signals right. She’d just been flirting but he...he was ready to throw her on his bed and have his way with her. She knew she hadn’t imagined that.  Yet he stormed off without so much as a kiss. That bastard. No one rejected Bulma Brief. She was a gorgeous, brilliant heiress and he would be lucky to have her.

 

Bulma clenched her teeth and shot to her feet.  She was not going to lie down and take it - not this way, at least.  Vegeta had to know what he was missing.

 

* * *

 

It took forever to find him.  Bulma found Vegeta in her mother’s gardens, tearing at the weeds, likely avoiding her.  His eyes were set in a glare, his lips in a hard line, his jaw clenched. He looked unapproachable.  Bulma hesitated. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But then she thought of him racing out of that room just short kissing her, and Bulma grunted.  She wasn’t backing down.

 

She marched forward, fists clenched by her sides. “Vegeta.”

 

He ignored her, but that didn’t deter her.  As he continued shuffling through the weeds, Bulma stopped at his side and tapped his shoulder.  “Vegeta.”

 

He grunted, but continued tugging at the weeds.  Bulma crouched down to kneel beside him. He looked at her with a subtle tilt of his chin.  He didn’t say a word. 

 

“Hey, Idiot!”

 

That got his attention.  Vegeta snapped his head toward Bulma, bringing them nearly face to face.  His fire dissipated when he realized how close Bulma was. This was her chance.  Vegeta wasn’t being surly or difficult. He wouldn’t fight her now if she leaned forward and connected his thick, enticing lips with hers.  She could just envelop her lips around his, close her eyes, and revel in the sensation of his tender touch, something she doubted many had the chance to see from him.

 

She closed her eyes.  She leaned forward. Vegeta grunted.  Where she should’ve connected, there was nothing.  She blinked as her jaw fell. Vegeta’s face was inches away from her, turned in another direction.

 

“V-Vegeta?”  Bulma’s lip quivered as she tried to contain the fury building inside her.

 

With another grunt, Vegeta thrust his chin toward something behind Bulma, his eyes looking past her.  Bulma felt her speeding pulse slow as she noticed the hint of pink on his cheeks, even shining through the bruises.

 

“We’re not alone,” he murmured through tight lips.

 

She turned around.  Oolong was walking toward her, whistling a tune and seemingly oblivious of what had almost happened between her and Vegeta a second ago.  Bulma’s shoulders drooped. Great. This was just perfect. Since when did her assistant have such bad timing?

 

“Miss Brief!” Oolong called with a wave.  “Yamcha called. Lover boy’s looking for you!”

 

As soon as he was within reach, Bulma smacked the back of his head.  “He’s not my lover boy! Ugh!”

 

She turned and stormed off, fists clenched at her side.  Her assistant was left dumbfounded, Vegeta was left hopefully feeling similar to the way she felt.  With Oolong’s interruption, she couldn’t even stick around to gauge Vegeta’s reaction. She knew now that he knew she wanted to kiss him.  Trying again could be humiliating if Oolong’s presence was only an excuse to reject her, something Vegeta wanted anyway. Bulma brought her thumb to her lip and gnawed her fingernail as she retreated into the house.  

 

She didn’t know her next step.  This was undiscovered territory for Bulma.  She was always self-assured, always knew what she wanted to do.  It would be easiest to forget about Vegeta. That would be the most reasonable thing to do.  Just let the man be her bodyguard. 

 

She tried to convince herself to take that course of action all through the night, but found herself tossing and turning with emotional torment rolling through her mind over her closed-off, mysteriously intriguing bodyguard.  She wanted to know how that kiss would’ve felt. She feared falling asleep and dreaming again of another erotic scenario that wasn’t going to happen with him. She wanted the real Vegeta. 

 

She didn’t want to give up on him.


	9. At the End (of the day)

She leaned forward, pressing her soft lips against his.  Vegeta felt no more scabs or injuries, only Bulma’s luscious lips.  He moaned as her fingers wrapped around the nape of his neck and threaded through his hair.  They were alone in the garden. She’d come to him again. She was wearing that alluring day dress, the red one which had caught his eye the other day.  Now, he had the opportunity to feel it - to feel Bulma beneath it.

Vegeta smoothed his palm over Bulma’s shoulder, where the dress ruffled around her creamy skin and crumpled beneath Vegeta’s calloused fingertips.  When he released the kiss, he saw that the vibrant red of her dress contrasted beautifully against the soft hue of her skin tone. He looked into Bulma’s blue eyes, batting at him playfully, and licked his lips.  He wanted her. Oh, he wanted her. He’d never had a female client like this, never gotten close to anyone he protected. To be honest, Vegeta never really cared whether they lived or died. The only thing that would’ve hurt him about the loss of past clients would’ve been the tarnish to his perfect record.  But as he looked into Bulma’s eyes, he knew this client, he couldn’t lose.

“Kiss me again,” Bulma breathed, wetting her lips before she pressed them to Vegeta’s.

Vegeta clung to Bulma and fell back into the sheets, not questioning how sheets had replaced the green grass carpeting the garden.  Bulma’s weight falling over him felt spectacular. He thrust his hips upward, intending to feel every peak and valley of Bulma’s body before he would consume her.  He froze when his pelvis hit something hard. Vegeta furrowed his brows as he opened his eyes. Bulma had to be wearing a chastity belt made of iron for her to feel like that.

“Sorry!” The nasally assistant’s voice broke Vegeta from his trance, bringing him to his sunlit bedroom.  “S-sorry, Mr. Vegeta. I didn’t see you there. Miss Brief told me to-“

Vegeta cut him off with a gesture, sitting up and pressing the metal suitcase off of him which had been the source of the hardness, tossed on his bed while he was laying in it.  As the suitcase hit the floor beside the bed with a raucous thump, Vegeta growled at the idiot standing in the doorway.

“S-sorry,” Oolong murmured, twiddling his fingers together as he stepped back, halfway out the doorframe.  “I-I didn’t see you there.”

Vegeta shot him a glare, causing the little man to take another step back.  But he didn’t go away. With another growl, Vegeta clenched his fists, prepared to throw something at his unwanted guest.

“Get. Out!” he yelled.

The porker ran with a squeal.  Vegeta fell back in the bed, sighing as he stretched his limbs across the mattress’s length.  When he felt something else, weighing heavy on his thigh, Vegeta’s eyes went wide. He was thankful the assistant seemingly hadn’t noticed his blatant erection.  He reached below his waistband and grabbed it, taking in the moment of pleasurable sensation which was far too short of what it could’ve been if he’d got what he’d dreamed about.  Damn that woman, even in his dreams, messing him up. And damn this estate for no one ever giving him privacy in this house!

Vegeta turned to the upturned suitcase on the ground.  He got Bulma’s message, loud and clear. She wanted him to start packing for that shithole, Satan City.  With a groan, Vegeta ran a hand down his face and kicked his feet off the side of the bed.

He couldn’t decide which was the worse situation to face today - having to pack for that dreaded trip, or having to encounter Bulma after yesterday’s near-kiss.  He gulped as his toes touched the ground. He willed himself to forget the whole thing. He refused to behave awkwardly around her today. Having the Satan City trip on his mind would serve as an adequate distraction.

* * *

Breakfast was quiet and lonely.  Vegeta liked it that way. It was a rare opportunity to have the kitchen to himself.  He’d found the room filled with the lingering scent of coffee, signifying that Bulma had already been there and left.  He was able to eat without his stomach in knots. But after he left the kitchen, his food must’ve disagreed with him. His stomach wrenched as he traveled through the house, performing his usual rounds of security inspection.  When he breezed past the open doorway of his room, the empty suitcase on the bed mocked him. Vegeta slammed the door. The rest of the security sweep was uneventful, but his mind drifted to Bulma and that kiss repeatedly. 

He didn’t know what to expect from her.  He could avoid a tirade or awkward apology (both of which seemed equally likely from her) by attacking before she could.  If he insulted her or pushed her away, she wouldn’t have the chance to do either of those things. If she was offended enough, she’d...no, that was no good.  The conjured image of Bulma slump-shouldered and teary-eyed, walking away from him dejected was not something Vegeta ever wanted to see. Dammit, most people knew to keep their distance from him and not make their feelings vulnerable to Vegeta.  They knew better. The only other person that didn’t, Goku, was handled just fine by the aforementioned method. He could take the insults and bounce back, still Vegeta’s “friend”. Vegeta wasn’t so sure Bulma could, or whether he wanted to risk it.

A flash of red down the hall caught his eye.  Vegeta tensed. If Bulma wore that red dress today, he didn’t know if he’d be able to control himself.  When he recognized the blonde hair on the woman’s head, Vegeta sighed. He needed to get ahold of himself.  This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Bulma sighed.  Her long day was drawing to a close, the sun setting outside her bedroom window.  She was prepared to depart for Satan City in another couple days. Her suitcase was packed, Oolong had 16 lined up to drive her and Vegeta to the airport, and she’d put her plans in motion earlier for Chi-Chi to pick them up at the airport when their flight arrived.  Thinking about returning there had Bulma nervous. Chi-Chi sounded stressed on the phone. Bulma knew Chi-Chi had had a lot of close calls with Majin Buu, which was exactly why Bulma wanted to be there to support Chi-Chi going to trial. She’d need Vegeta’s protection there more than she ever did here.  Good thing she didn’t need him here, because there had been no sign of Vegeta today. At this point, Bulma was certain he was avoiding her.

“Coward,” she scoffed, shooting a glare out her open bedroom window.

It would be nice, if in the midst of tension and rising fear of heading into dangerous territory, her bodyguard would be by her side.  Maybe she could get that kiss she’d missed out on. But again, her subconscious told her Vegeta didn’t want it. It was understandable yesterday that he’d backed away because he didn’t want to be seen, but his avoidance today sent a clear message he didn’t want the kiss.  He should have.

“Dumbass,” Bulma growled, narrowing her eyes at a cardinal, its red wings fluttering past her window.

She was stuck here alone, with woodland creatures, wallpaper and landscaping to keep her company.  She could’ve had a strong, muscular man with feathersoft black hair and tantalizing lips driving her wild, fucking her brains out by now.  But, no. Vegeta had to act like a prude.

“Dick,” Bulma spat, shooting to her feet to slam her bedroom window closed.

She drew the curtains closed and turned, gasping when her eyes landed on a figure in her doorway.  She didn’t know how long she hadn’t been alone. He was silent, absolutely unmoving as he stood there, masked by the shadows.  Bulma knew it was Vegeta. She was unafraid. Her emotions teetered on the edge of resentment and captivation. She couldn’t deny that Vegeta looked flawless in this lighting, the lines of shadows accentuating his edge of darkness while showing off a hint of his impeccable physique, the swells of his biceps beneath his rolled-up sleeves, the smooth lines of his hips and waistline in the fit of his smooth, tailored black pants.  He looked so good. If he didn’t kiss her this time, Bulma was prepared to rip his head off.

“Dick?” Vegeta asked, his voice laced with mockery.

“Yeah,” Bulma said with a grin, turning to see Vegeta edging toward her with a domineering posture, “I could use some.”

Vegeta’s eyes bulged.  He balked, stopping dead in his tracks.  Bulma snickered, amused by how easily she’d been able to shut him down.  She didn’t doubt he’d heard her other muttered insults, but she was in no mood to fight.  They’d tiptoed around this long enough, and it was finally going to happen, whether Vegeta was prepared for this or not.

Vegeta blinked furiously.  “You! Uh...”

Bulma swept in front of him, hesitated for only a second to catch her breath while meeting Vegeta’s dark-eyed, fear-provoking gaze, and rushed in.  She pressed her lips to his, caressing them softly before she brought her hands to his cheeks. His lips, sharp from the healing scab from his recent fight, felt amazingly soft elsewhere.  He tasted...perfect on her lips. Bulma froze when she realized Vegeta’s lips weren’t moving. His frozen posture made Bulma wonder if something was wrong. Her hands loosened from his cheeks, until something grasped her wrists, surprising her with the suddenness.  Just as suddenly as he’d grabbed her, Vegeta reconnected Bulma’s lips with his. 

Bulma sighed into the kiss as Vegeta took control, devouring her lips and sliding a smooth tongue into her mouth.  Running her fingers through Vegeta’s hair, Bulma pressed her body against his, raking his thigh with her bare foot as she raised her leg and opened herself up to him.  She saw Vegeta’s arm lash out in her peripheral vision before she heard the door slam shut. She was thrown onto her bed, Vegeta latched to her lips, running his hands along the length of her body.  With a moan, Bulma closed her eyes. This was it. It was finally going to happen. 

Bulma had never wanted anything so badly.

 


	10. Inside

Vegeta let loose a trembling breath as Bulma wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing her warm core against his throbbing erection.  The pressure squeezed his cock and rubbed it tantalizingly as Bulma gyrated her hips. That was it. He couldn’t hold back any longer if he wanted to.  Vegeta seized Bulma in his arms and flipped her over, rolling her onto her back as he slid his hands down her inner thighs and parted them to plant the bulge in his pants against her moistening core. Her short skirt was already hiked up.  Her panties were thin. Vegeta grit his teeth as he closed his eyes and thrusted, needing the unadulterated contact of skin to skin.

 

“Take off my panties,” Bulma whispered huskily.

 

The neediness in her voice sent a shiver down Vegeta’s spine.  He willingly obliged. As he pulled back, sliding Bulma’s panties down her shapely calves, Vegeta stood to his feet, wasting no time unfastening his pants.  He looked up from the complicated clasps of his tailored trousers to see Bulma eyeing him hungrily, sliding her bare toes against her exposed calf, spreading herself wide for him to see everything.  The woman was flawless and so wet for him. Vegeta’s jaw fell along with his pants.

 

Bulma giggled.  “Ooh, nice package.  Then again, I knew it would be.  Now take off the rest and get over here.”

 

Vegeta bit his lip.  Bulma’s demanding demeanor was a turn-on.  He wanted to do exactly as she said, and he was planning to - before she said anything.  Now, things had changed. She had to know Vegeta wouldn’t obey orders like some eager-to-please lap dog, even if the orders were the most enticing thing offered to him in a long time.

 

Vegeta stalked around the side of the bed, staring into Bulma’s eyes.  As concern crossed her face, he smirked. “You’re going to have to beg for it.”

 

Bulma scoffed as Vegeta climbed on the bed, hovering over her.  He kissed her before she could say a word, threading his fingers through her hair to trail down her neck.  He slid his hand lower to cup her breast in his palm, working his lips against hers all the while. Gently squeezing her plump, supple breast, he slipped his tongue into her mouth.  The weight of the fleshy mound in his palm felt heavenly. He was only sorry she still had her top on, covering the skin he knew had to be amazingly soft. But this would give him the upper hand.  Vegeta broke the kiss, grinning as he sat back on his heels to peel his shirt over his head. He caught the way Bulma’s eyes lit as they darted to his bared chest - his perfectly toned physique.

 

With a growl, he squeezed her breast and placed his other hand on her ass.  His lips moved from her delicious mouth to the crook of her neck, parting just enough to jut out his tongue and lavish her skin.  Vegeta felt a thrill as Bulma moaned, writhing against him, her body sliding against his greedy hands and insatiable mouth.

 

“Vegeta...”

 

Vegeta released the suction from Bulma’s neck, speaking into her creamy skin, “Vegeta what?”

 

“You prick.”

 

“Beg,” Vegeta said before he sucked her neck and Bulma panted in his ear.

 

He pressed his groin against hers again, relishing in the wanton hiss that emanated from her mouth.  She wouldn’t hold out much longer. Vegeta couldn’t bear it if she did. Once she submitted, he’d be plunging into her tantalizing heat with his next thrust.

 

“Beg for it,” Vegeta demanded, “or it isn’t happening.”

 

“Wanna bet?”

 

As something yanked at his waist, Vegeta’s eyes bulged.  Bulma’s fingers skimmed his bare hips before he felt the cool air on his backside and the tightness of elastic pulling at, restraining his thighs.

 

Vegeta met Bulma’s gaze, a growl catching in his throat when he saw the determined glare with which she looked back at him.  She thrust her hips up to meet his. Wet heat enveloped his shaft, sending a shock of crushing pressure to his core, making him seize and quiver at the same time.  He lurched forward with a gasp once he was fully sheathed inside her.

 

Bulma let out a triumphant huff before grasping at the back of Vegeta’s head, dragging her nails along the back of his neck.  Vegeta growled through clenched teeth, though it was only a ruse. He was thankful for this show of mercy. He couldn’t possibly be unhappy while wrapped in her intense sensations.  To show his appreciation, he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of Bulma’s ass and thrust at a new angle that made the woman beneath him squeal. He thrust again and again, driving into that same spot.  Bulma’s voice reached higher and higher, dragging Vegeta through ecstasy along with her until she trembled violently against him.

 

Bulma’s tremulous contractions sent shockwaves through Vegeta’s body.  Clenching his eyes shut and squeezing Bulma’s firm ass in his palm, he began thrusting sporadically, reaching his peak before it could slip away.   When he reached it, his sensations exploded to life, giving Vegeta the greatest high conjoined with a sense of triumph. He had conquered this client in a way he’d never interacted with a client before.  Or maybe she’d conquered him.

 

Soft fingers threaded through his hairline, pulling clinging hairs from his dewy perspiration.  “Vegeta,” Bulma panted, “that was-“

 

“I know,” Vegeta agreed, smiling to himself as he nuzzled his face into Bulma’s sweat-saturated collarbone with a perfect view of her pert breasts.  

 

“But we shouldn’t have-“

 

“ _ I _ shouldn’t have,” Vegeta corrected her, knowing she was at no fault here, aside from being dangerously tantalizing.

 

She pulled back from their embrace, and Vegeta looked up to see her seeking his gaze, her shining blue eyes full of intensity.  “We need to be focused, in Satan City. We can’t let this distract us. Chi-Chi’s life - other people’s lives - are at stake.”

 

Vegeta frowned.  “Majin Buu.”

 

Bulma nodded, stroked her fingers through Vegeta’s hair again.  “I don’t want to see anything happen to you out there. Don’t try to be a hero.”

 

Vegeta snorted.  “Hero? Yeah, right.”

 

“Just keep an eye on Goku.  I have a feeling he’s got his hands full with Chi-Chi.  Maybe he doesn’t realize how dangerous Buu really is.”

 

“He doesn’t realize a lot of things.”  Vegeta eyed Bulma, thinking of what to anticipate from their visit to Satan City.  “I’m counting on a chance to kick some ass. If I’m going to that fucked up city, I may as well get something out of it.”

 

“What exactly do you have against Satan City anyway?”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Vegeta said softly, finding his own fingers gravitating toward Bulma’s hairline, stroking the soft, dampened hair matting her forehead.

 

As Vegeta felt Bulma curl around him, her legs wrapping around his, her free arm falling loosely over his back, he wondered what this meant.  This wasn’t the time to think about a relationship. There were more serious issues needing his immediate attention in Satan City, the place he wished to not discuss.  Majin Buu was a real threat. Goku probably thought he could handle it himself, but Vegeta knew wherever an entire gang of criminals lurked, there would be plenty of chance to beat the piss out of somebody - more than enough to go around.  He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, but he wouldn’t let Bulma anywhere near it, either.

 

He tensed his jaw.  “Maybe you should stay-“

 

“Forget it,” Bulma snapped.  “I am going to support my friends, and that's final.”

 

“Bulma.”

 

“What do you propose instead?” she challenged, mockery evident.  “I stay here and take my chances with no bodyguard until you come back? _ If _ you even come back.”

 

“Dammit, I’m not the only bodyguard-“

 

“You and Goku are the best bodyguards I know, and the only ones I trust.  Wherever the two of you are, I can’t be in danger.”

 

Massaging his forehead, Vegeta scoffed.  “It doesn’t always work that way.”

 

Bulma shifted before her lips gently puckered Vegeta’s cheek.  “I know. But have a little faith.” Bulma rolled away, leaving Vegeta alone in the warm sheets as she flashed a dazzling display of ass in his face, before turning and shooting him a wink.  “Get dressed and get packed. We’ve gotta be off to the airport pretty early tomorrow. Chi-Chi’s trial’s started already, so her and Goku will be coming from the courthouse to pick us up at the airport.”

 

Vegeta sneered.  He really wasn’t looking forward to seeing that crooked city, or that idiot. Even Bulma’s Prosecutor friend he’d never met sounded like a piece of work he’d want nothing to do with.  There were only two good pieces to this trip, and he’d try focusing on them.

Bulma...and action.

 

* * *

Their flight arrived in Satan City early.  This was a nice change in pace. Bulma was used to having to wait for delays, not alter her plans around running early.  But arriving at three forty-five...Chi-Chi was definitely still in court. Bulma tried Goku’s phone, thinking he might not be in the courtroom with her, but when it went to voicemail, she figured he was in there, too.  She turned to Vegeta with a huff as she deposited her phone in her purse.

 

“Now what?” Vegeta asked, his brow twitching.

 

“Well,” Bulma said, a smile spreading across her face as an idea occurred to her, “let’s make the best of this!  We’ve got extra time, so why don’t we stop somewhere and have a nice coffee, or some ice cream. Satan City is famous for their ice creams, you know.”

 

Vegeta turned away from her to traverse the terminal, two bulky suitcases in hand.  “I’m not here to tour this shit city. I want to know what’s happening with the Buu trial.”

 

Bulma ran after him, narrowing her brows.  “We can’t interrupt a trial in session, Vegeta.  We have to wait to see Chi-Chi first.”

 

“This lawyer friend of yours,” Vegeta said, “is she any good?”

 

Bulma balked.  “At what?”

 

“Prosecuting,” Vegeta said, sneering over his shoulder.

 

Bulma rolled her eyes at herself.  Of course, prosecuting. What else would Vegeta ask about Chi-Chi being good at?  But why did Vegeta care whether Chi-Chi was good at it? He was only here because he was tagging along to protect Bulma.  

 

Bulma ran forward to meet Vegeta by his side.  “If anyone can make a badass criminal pay the legal way, it’s Chi-Chi.  Maybe we should call her father.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Her father.  Ox Mao is a retired prosecutor here in the city - pretty notorious actually.  Really nice guy, though. If Chi-Chi’s busy, he’s the next person I can think of to give us a ride - unless you want to reconsider that ice cream.”

 

“Call the old man.”

 

“Or there’s Krillin.  I could give him a call, too,” Bulma said, a sly grin crossing her face as another idea entered her mind.  “Or we could visit Yamcha’s garage here in the city. I’ve always wanted to watch him work.”

 

“I said call the old man!” Vegeta snapped, amusingly enflamed by Bulma’s latest suggestion.

 

His shoulders went rigid as he paced ahead of Bulma.  She followed him out the sliding automatic doors of the airport, feeling brisk air kiss her skin as multicolored leaves tumbled across the concrete curb.  Taxi cabs sat ahead of them, waiting to be hailed, but Vegeta already made it clear on the way over here that he wouldn’t trust an unknown driver for her security.  They would have to call Ox. Bulma whipped her phone out of her purse, scanning through her contacts for the old man’s number.

 

“Here it is,” she said with a smile before selecting the number and pressing the phone to her ear.  It rang as Vegeta dropped the suitcases at his feet and scanned their surroundings, looking very serious and very irritable.

 

“Hello? Bulma?”

 

“Mr. Mao, hi!”

 

He laughed.  “Didn’t expect to hear from you!”

 

“I’m in the city!  Chi-Chi was supposed to pick me up here at the airport after-“

 

“Oh! Oh, Chi-Chi mentioned you were coming.  I think she’s still in court, but it shouldn’t be much longer.  How was your flight? Were you...”

 

As Ox continued a conversation too long for Bulma to indulge him, she cast a sidelong glance at Vegeta.  Vegeta was muttering and scoffing to himself, apparently as unhappy about their new surroundings as he’d claimed he would be.  Something beeped in Bulma’s ear. She raised a brow, wondering what her phone was telling her, but Ox was waiting on an answer to the question he’d just asked her.

 

“Yes,” Bulma said with a smile.  “Yes, if you could give us a ride to Chi-Chi’s place, that would be great.”

 

“Us?  Is Oolong with you?”

 

“Oh, no.  I brought my bodyguard along.  New guy.” Bulma smirked as Vegeta turned to her with a peevish glare.  “He’s a little grumpy. Apparently, he doesn’t like your city.”

 

“Doesn’t like my city?  What’s not to like?”

 

Bulma laughed. “I don’t know, Ox.  Knowing Vegeta, it could be a multitude of reasons.”

 

Vegeta shot Bulma the middle finger.  Bulma reciprocated with a toothy grin.

 

“I’d better get going, then,” Ox said.  “Don’t want to leave you two waiting out in the cold for too long.”

 

“Thank you.  See you soon.”

 

“Bye.”

 

“It  _ is _ a multitude of reasons,” Vegeta growled.  “Just look around you!”

 

Bulma raised a brow, inspecting her phone to find a missed call notification - from Chi-Chi.  “What? Hm, that’s strange.”

 

“It’s too damn cold!  And look at these people.  Bums. Vagrants. Everywhere.”

 

“I wonder why Chi-Chi called me.  I thought she was still supposed to be in court.”

 

“Good.  If she’s out, we shouldn’t have to wait long to hear an explanation of what’s been happening around here.”

 

“Ox can explain things to us,” Bulma said with a dismissive wave.  She eyed Vegeta. “So can we talk about-“

 

“No.” Vegeta snapped her a glare, his gaze softening the moment his eyes met Bulma’s.  “Just let me do my job right now.”

 

Bulma fumed, expelling air from her nose with her lips tightly sealed.  She wanted to argue. Vegeta hadn’t even allowed her to finish what she was about to say.  But that soft look in his eyes - it was almost pleading; so unlike Vegeta’s normal countenance that she couldn’t bring herself to push against it.  He was focused on doing his job, and doing it well. And maybe she was a distraction, which was a good thing, because it meant Vegeta had feelings for her.  She had to address the elephant in the room though, at some point. After what had happened between them, she couldn’t see herself living the rest of her life without this man.   She didn’t want him to want to live without her.

 

“Fine.  You’re on the job here, I get it.  But when we get back to West City, you and I are having a serious talk, Buddy - about us.”

 

Vegeta scoffed, but nodded.  Bulma crossed her arms and turned with a sigh to the curb, where yellow cabs rolled past, moving travelers to and from their destination.  She envied those passengers. It would be nice to hop in a car right now, instead of being stuck fuming at Vegeta with no outlet for her frustration.

 

When a shiny black sports car driven by an oversized man pulled up in front of her, Bulma sighed.  She saw the older man inside beam a brilliant smile at her and couldn’t help smiling in return as Vegeta grabbed their luggage.  Maybe things would be better once they arrived at Chi-Chi’s penthouse.

 

* * *

Things weren’t much better at the penthouse.  The first hour had been spent with Ox making painstaking efforts at small talk with Vegeta.  Vegeta was more silent than usual. Bulma was too sullen to carry the conversation, though she tried.  She felt bad for Ox. The only time he could perk either hers or Vegeta’s interest was when he mentioned the Buu case.  From the story he’d recounted, it sounded like things had been very active around here. That only seemed to make Vegeta more irritable.  But the older man had finally resolved to let it go. He was now fixing them dinner in the kitchen, while Bulma and Vegeta sat in the living room, channel surfing, waiting for Goku and Chi-Chi to return from court.

 

Vegeta had aimed himself toward the private elevator doors, which opened directly into Chi-Chi’s apartment.  He wouldn’t allo w Bulma to sit any closer to the entry than he was, but then, this was Chi-Chi’s apartment, where Majin Buu’s men were likely to try another attack like they’d done to Chi-Chi here already.  Bulma was more than willing to keep her distance from the elevator.

 

She stood to stretch her legs, looking out at the darkness descending on the town, overshadowing Satan City’s impressive skyline.  Chi-Chi had a great view here. It was just a shame she had to look out those windows wondering where her enemies might be waiting for her.

 

With a glance at Vegeta, whose eyes shifted from the elevator doors to Bulma’s face for only a moment before returning to the doors, Bulma headed into the kitchen.  Some savory aromas were wafting from in there, though Ox hadn’t told them what he was cooking yet. She felt a little thirsty and curious to see what he was up to. But as the elevator dinged, Bulma halted her steps.  She turned, more curious about the arrival coming into the penthouse. The doors slid open, but Bulma was too far into the kitchen to see who stood inside. With a glance at Vegeta’s stoic face, his eyes set straight ahead with a clear view of the elevator passenger, Bulma sighed.  It was Chi-Chi, if course. They’d been expecting her and Goku, after all.

 

Bulma rolled her eyes at herself as a smile stretched across her face and she ran to the elevator doors.  “Chi-Chi!”

 

Bums caught the door as they started sliding closed, causing them to bounce back open and reveal to her Chi-Chi’s wide eyes, downturned lips, and rigid stance.  Chi-Chi looked petrified. And she was alone. Bulma leaned forward to peek around the elevator doors into the brightly-lit elevator. "Chi-Chi, it's so good to see you again!"

 

Chi-Chi’s eyes flickered to her face, the stun still apparent.  "B-Bulma?" Chi-Chi cast a wary glance past Bulma’s shoulder, before she stepped out of the elevator, into her home.

 

“I hope you don't mind that I let them in, honey,” Ox called from the kitchen.  “Bulma called me while you were still in court. Her flight arrived early and she needed a ride, so I figured I would bring her here to wait for you." Ox paused, the squeak of his busy potato-peeler ceasing. "Where's Goku?"

 

"Yeah. Where  _ is _ Goku?" Bulma echoed, crossing her arms.

 

She’d expected to see her old guard here.  She was paying him to protect Chi-Chi, after all.  It was bad enough he’d disappeared on Chi-Chi once already.  They’d had news that Majin Buu was let out on bail with some finagling from his fancy high-paid lawyers.  If he ran off for some stupid scheme, or chasing danger when he had more than enough right here, Bulma was going to kill that man for letting her down.  She wouldn’t even want to see what  _ Chi-Chi _ would do to him.

 

Chi-Chi frowned stubbornly as she placed her briefcase on the ground, before pointing into the living room. "First, who is that?"

 

Bulma followed Chi-Chi’s finger to shoot Vegeta a smile.  "That's  _ my _ bodyguard.  Vegeta stays by my side, as he  _ should _ , unlike someone I'd like to have a word with."

 

Bulma paid no notice to Vegeta’s responsive scoff.  As Chi-Chi raised her brows, Bulma frowned.

 

"Okay." Chi-Chi crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Vegeta. "So, Vegeta. You know this job. You know Goku. What the hell do  _ you _ make of his tendency to disappear without any notice?"

 

Bulma watched Vegeta frown at Chi-Chi before looking away with a dismissive shrug. "He's an idiot, but he knows the job. If he left you unprotected, whatever he's doing, there's probably a reason for it."

 

" _ Probably _ ?" Bulma scoffed.

 

Chi-Chi’s black eyes narrowed. "This isn't the first time Goku disappeared on me!"

 

"That's right!" Bulma raised her finger, recalling that phone call with Chi-Chi. "The last time he did this Chi-Chi was almost killed!"

 

"Have you tried _ calling _ him?" Vegeta drawled.

 

"Yes," Chi-Chi growled through clenched teeth, "several times. It goes straight to voicemail."

 

"You don't think something could've happened to him?" Ox interrupted, his voice trembling.

 

Chi-Chi shook her head and sighed. "No.  I'm sure he'll be back soon enough, when he's done doing…whatever he felt was so important that he left me to walk home alone from the trial of the man trying to _ kill _ me."

 

Bulma winced at the frightening reminder, as well as the caustic tone to Chi-Chi’s voice.  Her best friend could be scary when she wanted to. Bulma was glad it was Goku and not her at whom Chi-Chi was pissed off.  Out of the corner of her eye, Bulma noticed Vegeta, whose gaze was distant and pensive. He knew Goku, just like she did. Bulma had never known Goku to go completely off the radar in times of danger.  He could be irresponsible and stupid at times, but not when it counted. He was the best bodyguard she’d ever had. Bulma always felt safe when Goku was protecting her. However, she saw that Chi-Chi wasn’t feeling very safe.  Vegeta knew something was up. Chi-Chi needed to focus on the trial while Buu was confined to a courtroom, not out roaming the streets like he was now that he’d been let out on bail. To do that, she needed to believe nothing was up.  Bulma decided to clear some tension from the room.

 

She cleared her throat. "So, how's the trial going  _ so far _ ?"

 

As Bulma offered Chi-Chi a tight smile, Chi-Chi forced a smile back at her.  Ox resumed cooking, the peeling and sizzling serving to lessen the tension. Bulma started a conversation with Chi-Chi, keeping the topics light as she tried not to worry about Goku.  She and Chi-Chi both tried to bring Vegeta into the conversation, but Bulma could see he was too deep in thought to engage. Something wasn’t right. As much as Bulma knew that, she had to hide it from Chi-Chi.  No prosecutor presented a good winning case while distracted with other issues. Besides, Goku was a tough guy. Bulma knew he could take care of himself. He’d probably be back before morning, during which, Bulma could give him the scolding of his life for giving her a scare like that.  She turned her gaze from Chi-Chi, smiling as Chi-Chi laughed at something Ox said. Her eyes met Vegeta’s. His fingers were steepled together, pressed to the bottom of his chin, his lips set in a scowl. Worst case scenario, if Goku didn’t fix whatever mess he’d gotten himself into, Bulma knew she could count on Vegeta to make things right.

 

She was glad he was here.

 


	11. In Court

Vegeta was up before all the others.  A quick glance around the main living area showed him nothing has been disturbed during the night, and of course it hadn’t.  He would’ve noticed. The sun was shining, another day of trial was starting soon, but there was no sign of Goku. Vegeta had thought on his possible whereabouts all through his morning shower, shaving and dressing himself in the fogged bathroom mirror.  Any explanation he could come up with wasn’t a good one. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he was met by Chi-Chi. The dark-haired lawyer looked much less formidable in flannel pajamas than she had last night, but she also looked like hell. Her pretty face was tainted by the lines of her scowl.

As Vegeta glared at her annoying staring, Chi-Chi narrowed her eyes.  "Goku never came home last night?"

Vegeta set his jaw.  He couldn’t speak it, but it was obvious.  He could see the lawyer knew it as well as he did when she trembled. Her anger melted away, her eyes widening with fear.  Vegeta averted his gaze and crossed his arms. Tension fill the hall.

The click of a doorknob broke the tension as Bulma paraded out of the guest room to greet them. "What? No good morning, you two?"  

Bulma’s eyes met Vegeta’s before darting to Chi-Chi.  As she stepped between them, Bulma beamed at Vegeta, nearly making him forget the severity of this situation.  She was already dressed in full makeup, her short hair shined and combed to soft perfection. Vegeta averted his eyes from Bulma's brightly smiling face to look at Chi-Chi, reminding himself of the current problem. Bulma flickered him a questioning glance before cocking her head at Chi-Chi.

The smile finally fell from her face.  "Where's Goku? Don’t you two need to get ready to go to court?"

Vegeta glared at Bulma, whose expression turned somber when she looked at her friend to see distress.  Vegeta rolled his eyes. For a woman as intelligent as Bulma was, she really took a long time to catch on this morning.

"Nice job,  _ genius,” Vegeta said, eliciting a glare from  _ Bulma.  “Send her to trial against a murderer, with a reminder of the fact that she's down one mysteriously disappeared bodyguard."

"Goku should be back by now." Bulma gnawed on her thumbnail and looked at Chi-Chi. "I'll call the protection agency. Krillin, too. I'm sure someone's heard from him. Vegeta will leave with you for court today to make sure you're safe. In the meantime, Prosecutor, you need to get dressed."

Chi-Chi frowned.  So did Vegeta. He didn’t want to leave Bulma - to leave with her.  Something could happen to Bulma while he was away from the penthouse.  Screw this Krillin. He was probably a wimp, anyway, being a Satan City-bred bodyguard.  Vegeta sneered at Bulma, winding up for his argument, until she turned her eyes from Chi-Chi to meet Vegeta’s gaze.  She forced a smile. Vegeta knew it wasn’t genuine or natural. She was acting for her friend’s benefit, and scared. As she should have been, if she really intended to send Vegeta away and take her chances here with a second-rate bodyguard.  There was an apology in Bulma’s big eyes, because she knew this was far from the way Vegeta wanted this to go. She might’ve even known he was concerned about Goku, too. Vegeta didn’t know how she could know. He certainly didn’t show it, nor intend to ever admit it.  She just knew. She knew him too well. Like how right now, she knew he’d do as she said, in spite of his desire to do the opposite.

Bulma turned from Vegeta to tug meaningfully at Chi-Chi’s flannel nightgown.  "Can't put away bad guys dressed like that."

Vegeta read Chi-Chi’s reluctance to go, though he doubted she could be as reluctant as him.  “If you don't show in court today, what happens?"

Chi-Chi raised a hand to the collar of her nightgown, playing absently with it. "They…they'd have to find another available attorney to stand in for me, to plead the case to the jury until I return."

As Chi-Chi's brow furrowed, Vegeta nodded.  He cast a sidelong glance at Bulma, who pressed her hands together and bowed her head, her eyes alight with determination.  This was the way it had to be. If they didn’t want to let that scum, who may have killed the only other bodyguard who’d ever measured up to Vegeta in record and skill, walk away from his trial unscathed, Chi-Chi had to see this trial through and prosecute him.  She couldn’t do that without protection. Bulma was absolutely right. As much as he hated it, Vegeta had to escort Chi-Chi safely to that courthouse.

Chi-Chi met Vegeta's gaze with a determined glare. "I have to be there."

* * *

The elevator opened to reveal the busy lobby.  With Chi-Chi by his side, Vegeta scanned every face they passed, watching for danger, hoping for a clue as to what was happening with Majin Buu and his men.

"Ms. Mao!"

Vegeta turned from the front entrance to see an employee in the apartment’s red uniform approaching.  Vegeta sent him a glare, causing the younger man to stop short. Gawking at Vegeta, he extended a shaky hand towards Chi-Chi, within it a small, brown, cardboard box.

The pathetic employee gulped.  “A package just arrived for you."

Chi-Chi glanced at the box and then met the man's gaze before Vegeta answered on her behalf, "No time for that. She's late."

Chi-Chi smiled apologetically. "You can send it up to my penthouse anyways. My friend, Bulma Brief is up there. She can sign for it for me."

"Right!" The man nodded.

He backed away from Vegeta as Chi-Chi turned to leave. Vegeta snorted at his hurried pace.  Coward. He turned to catch up to Chi-Chi, who was hurrying to meet her car, getting ahead of him.  He might not‘ s cared for this woman, but he knew how to do his job. Her fingers clenched the handle of her briefcase as Vegeta brushed past her, pressing the door open, watching for threats.  The sidewalk was clear. No suspicious cars approaching. Vegeta closed the door and turned to the shiny black four-door waiting for them. He made his way around to the driver's position, ignoring Chi-Chi’s shaky demeanor. Vegeta watched her slip in safely, and then sat in the driver's seat and turned the ignition.

"Where's this courthouse?" Vegeta asked as the engine roared to life.

Chi-Chi looked up, her frightened eyes visible in the rear-view mirror. "Four blocks away. Make a left up here."

The ride was quiet. Vegeta liked it this way.  With his passenger deep in thought, he could puzzle out Goku’s possible movements, what lead to his disappearance. He knew the idiot likely made a misstep tracking some lead.  He never went into a damn thing with caution. As Chi-Chi directed him to turn, Vegeta broke from his thoughts. He couldn’t make any sense out of this, because the occasional directional interruptions kept ruining his train of thought.  When they arrived in front of the busy courthouse, Vegeta was no closer to knowing where to look for Goku. And he was further from Bulma than he wanted to be.

With a sigh, he opened his door.  "Let's go."

He stepped around the car and opened Chi-Chi's door, frowning as he thought of Majin Buu,  even worse, Majin Buu targeting this prosecutor by breaking into her home again. Except this time, he’d find Bulma and a useless guard there.  Before Vegeta had the chance to indulge Bulma with this talk she wanted, she could be gone. Vegeta grit his teeth, regretting the fact he hadn’t talked to her when he could.

Chi-Chi stepped out of the car and turned.  "You know, I need to focus on this trial today, even with Goku missing." She frowned sternly, " _ You n _ eed to be focused on our surroundings, keeping me safe at this courthouse."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "I don't recall being appointed as  _ your _ bodyguard."

"Bulma pretty much handed you over for the day." Chi-Chi smiled. "She's safe with Krillin. Besides, originally, you were appointed as my bodyguard." Chi-Chi narrowed her eyes, her smile becoming more of a smirk. " _ You c _ ould be the one missing right now if it weren't for Goku's generosity in switching places with you."

Vegeta rolled his eyes.  Scoffing at Chi-Chi's claim, he lead the way into the courthouse.  He didn’t like feeling like Bulma’s friend knew more about what was going on between the two of them than he was letting on.  But Chi-Chi’s attitude definitely hinted that she saw something between them. If it was only attraction, that would be fine. No man would deny that Bulma was a sexy woman.  But Vegeta didn’t like that which made him feel weak and vulnerable. Feelings. His feelings for Bulma were the things he was worried Chi-Chi could see.

Vegeta glanced over his shoulder to see Chi-Chi with her head held high. The courthouse lied ahead, ready for a fight much different than the arena on which Vegeta was used to fighting.  This was the prosecutor’s territory, and the damn crooked judges and criminals really ran this place. Vegeta grit his teeth as he walked inside. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to know what was happening back at the penthouse.  If anyone dared to attack the place while he wasn’t there to keep it safe, Vegeta would rip that person limb from limb. He would be the greatest thorn they’d ever had in their side. No one would want to encounter his murderous rage.

* * *

Krillin arrived just before Chi-Chi and Vegeta left for court.  He might’ve arrived after, but Vegeta refused to leave Bulma alone in the penthouse.  She wasn’t going to court today, but she realized she might have to go tomorrow if he was going to be this obstinate about her hanging back.  Poor Krillin had to rush out of his home to get here early on short notice, leaving his angry wife charged with the task of driving their preschooler to school in his place.  He’d arrived frazzled, but capable. Bulma knew he could hold it together here with her. She had important calls to make today, if she was going to find out what happened to Goku.  

 

But shortly after he arrived, the messenger arrived with Chi-Chi’s package.  Now, Bulma was caught up in waiting for its reveal. Krillin refused to allow her, for her safety, to open if herself.  This angered Bulma. But when Krillin mentioned it might be a bomb intended for Chi-Chi, Bulma was more than willing to allow Krillin to check it.

 

“What is it, Krillin?” Bulma asked, nodding to her temporary short, bald bodyguard.

 

Krillin turned from the box propped on Chi-Chi’s coffee table.  Cardboard flaps jutted out from the top of it in all directions now.  It clearly hadn’t been a bomb, at least not one that would be set off upon opening.  As Krillin silently hovered over the box, Bulma pursed her lips, annoyed. The only thing Krillin seemed to be protecting her from was information.  She wanted to know what she’d signed off for for Chi-Chi. This could be important. Judging by the cryptic lack of sender, it likely had something to do with Goku.  Dissatisfied with Krillin’s looming silence, Bulma dashed forward.

 

“No!” Krillin whirled on Bulma, holding up his hands.  “Miss Brief, you don’t want to look.”

 

Bulma cocked her head and pushed Krillin’s hands off her chest.  “Why not?”

 

He scrambled to cover the box with both hands.  “It’s-it’s not-it’s not for you!”

 

“Oh, now come on, Krillin,” Bulma grumbled, reminded of how annoying he’d been the last time she’d come to this city without Goku by her side.  “Does it have something to do with Goku or not? We need to fi-“

 

She froze when her eye caught a glimpse of red staining the cardboard flap hanging past Krillin’s hands attempting to shield the box from her view.  Bulma knit her brows and gasped. That deep, shimmering red looked like blood. She turned wide eyes on Krillin, who gave her a grave nod.

 

“No,” Bulma breathed, reaching for the box.

 

“They have Goku.”

 

With a rush of breath, Bulma reached for the box.  She no longer held reservations about the contents of that box.  Her need to see proof that Goku was safe overrode her fear of a gruesome discovery.  Inside the blood-stained box, she found the gruesome discover, sans reassuring information.  When the bloody stump rolled over to reveal a stubby fingernail, Bulma screamed. She threw the box at Krillin.

 

“Bulma!”

 

Bulma shot to her feet.  “He-he-“ her hands flew to her head, mussing her pristine hair.  “How could they have him? Chi-Chi’s supposed to need protection, not Goku!”

 

“Goku,” Krillin said with a gulp, peering into the box as he held it in his lap.  “How could this happen?”

 

“It’s-it’s his, right?” Bulma asked, knowing it had to be, wishing it wasn’t.

 

“I-I don’t know.”  Krillin scratched his head, grimacing.  “You don’t think they’re going after...Chi-Chi’s protection, do you?”

 

Bulma’s eyes went wide as she met Krillin’s equally panic-stricken gaze.  Krillin obviously had good reason to be concerned for his own hide, but Vegeta was out there with Chi-Chi.  It was bad enough that something bad had happened to Goku. Bulma didn’t want to think about a similar fate befalling Vegeta.

 

“Because if they are-“ Krillin stopped himself when his eyes focused on the contents of the open box.  “No. Something’s not right here. They couldn’t do this to Goku. I’ve seen him work. The guy knows what he’s doing.”

 

“I know, Krillin,” Bulma said, pressing her thumb to her bottom lip.  “But no one’s infallible. If nothing happened to Goku, why isn’t he here by now?”

 

Krillin blinked.  “Distractions?”

 

“What could be more distracting than a psychotic mob boss going after the client he’s been charged with - he’s being  _ paid to _ \- protect?” Bulma blasted, her indignation increasing with every word.

 

Krillin sighed.  He scratched his bald head, wincing.  Bulma rubbed her arms, trying to brush away the goosebumps forming there.  It wasn’t due to the cool, though there was plenty of that here. That finger was still in the box.  It was only a foot away from her, sitting in Krillin’s lap, and they both knew what it meant. Chi-Chi was not going to be happy, coming home from a long day in court to news like this.  Vegeta wasn’t going to be a picnic, either.

 

“But how?” Krillin groaned.  “Majin Buu is in court, with Chi-Chi.”

 

“Obviously one of his men sent this.  They must be keeping Goku somewhere.”

 

Krilllin looked into the box again, his eyes going wide.  “Oh.”

 

“Oh, what?”

 

“There’s a note!”

 

“You didn’t notice that before?” Bulma yelled.

 

“Well!  Neither did you!”

 

“ _ I’m _ not a trained bodyguard,” Bulma seethed, reaching to tear the folded white paper from Krillin’s fingers as he pried the note from the box.  “Let me see that.”

_ We have your bodyguard.  Throw the trial. Or else.  Or else. Or else.  _ Bulma read over the most important of the words scrawled in the lengthy script of the letter again and again.  Her eyes darted across the page in a frenzy, trying to absorb the meaning, whether this was really happening.  _ Watching you.  No police. _

The elevator dinged.  She gasped as she looked up to the parting doors, the sliver of light shining through the crack.  She darted her eyes outside, surprised to see the sun setting, the hours having disappeared during her emotional turmoil so fast she hadn’t realized it.  She looked at Krillin, reading the panic on his face. They’d gotten nowhere. Chi-Chi and Vegeta were back from trial. Somehow, the two of them were going to have to break this terrible news.

Bulma looked up to meet two dark pair of eyes staring back at her.  

She didn’t know which one of them was going to be harder to deal with – Chi-Chi, or Vegeta.

 


	12. In Deep Thought

As the lawyer by his side shot through the elevator doors shouting, "Is he back?”, Vegeta frowned across the partition, to where Bulma stood in the center of the living room with that bald guard with whom he’d left her.

Bulma's deeply sorrowful gaze, not to mention the absence of Goku standing there, told Vegeta he wasn’t.  Chi-Chi's footsteps slowed to a halt as Vegeta entered the room. Tearing his eyes from Bulma’s, Vegeta seated himself on Chi-Chi’s red sofa.  The guard, Vegeta noted, couldn't even look at Chi-Chi, who cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at Krillin and Bulma. Vegeta followed her gaze, allowing his eyes to land on Bulma just long enough to see tears shimmering in her eyes.  They all knew court was difficult, and that Goku's absence had carried on for far too long, but something more had happened here while they were gone. These two couldn’t possibly know what Chi-Chi had discovered in court. Vegeta grimaced at the thought of what new surprise awaited them.

“Bulma?” Chi-Chi said.  “Krillin? What…?"

"It's…" Krillin gulped before shakily exhaling as he reached behind him, “you might want to sit down for this."

He presented in his palm the small package from earlier - the one they’d come across as a delivery for Chi-Chi in the morning.  Krillin held the box for only a moment before Bulma swiped it from him. Clasping it in both hands, Bulma took a deep breath and affixed her eyes on Chi-Chi. When Vegeta’s frown deepened, his thoughts focusing on what Bulma could possibly have to reveal in that package, her blue eyes turned to him - and Vegeta knew.  Goku wasn’t coming back. Vegeta’s chest clenched as the thought of Goku’s death passed through his mind, but he suppressed any feelings he was having. He was here on account of Bulma. If Goku had stepped into trouble, that was his problem. Right now, Bulma was clearly bothered by whatever had happened, or possibly happened, to their friend.  Vegeta knew Bulma and Goku were close. Discounting any trauma in her oldest guard’s life was not a good footing for the start of a relationship with her. But Vegeta needed, above all else, to keep Bulma safe. She gave him a slight nod, and in that instant, Vegeta was sure she knew that.

Weight sunk into the sofa as Chi-Chi sat on the far end, where Vegeta was sitting. "That's the package that arrived this morning."

Vegeta tensed his jaw, nodding in agreement.  He already knew where this was going. The oblivious prosecutor was in for a hell of a shock, though.  

"Uh-huh," Krillin muttered.

Keeping her head down, Bulma took the seat between Vegeta and Chi-Chi on the sofa, placing the box delicately on her lap. Grinding his teeth obnoxiously loudly, Krillin propped his rear on the coffee table and pressed a fist hard against his mouth.

"I don't think Goku's going to be coming back, at least, not…anytime soon,” Bulma said quietly as she pulled back the flaps of the box to expose a mess of tissues soaked in red. When she pulled back those soaked tissues with the tips of her fingers, Vegeta saw the fleshy stump he suspected would be in there.

Chi-Chi screamed as Vegeta grimaced at the fleshy piece of severed finger. It was a gruesome message, its point loud and clear. It wasn't Goku's usual irresponsibility that caused his delay, but something much worse.

While Bulma grimaced and turned away from the package, Krillin and Chi-Chi did the same. Vegeta stared into the box, seeking the note which should’ve come along with the more symbolic message of a bloody stump.

"Goku..." Chi-Chi moaned.

"That…can't be Goku's...?" Bulma wrung her hands together as she forced a reassuring smile to Chi-Chi and then looked to Vegeta.

Vegeta frowned at her, knowing Bulma was fooling herself if she thought that finger could possibly not be Goku’s.  The point of this package being sent to this penthouse at the time of this trial and this missing bodyguard couldn’t be clearer.  Vegeta narrowed his eyes long and hard into the cardboard box, even as the flap fell inward and concealed the fleshy stump again.

"…this is probably just a sick criminal's desperate attempt to scare his prosecutor...right?" Bulma's lip trembled, her stubborn resistance crumbling.

Chi-Chi opened her mouth and looked at Krillin, then Vegeta, then Bulma, horror written across her face.

When her face lost its color, Vegeta shot to his feet. After her eyes roll back in her head, Vegeta struck his arms out, catching Bulma’s friend before she hit the floor, unconscious.

“Chi-Chi!” Krillin swept in, taking the woman off Vegeta’s hands, and Vegeta let him.  

He turned to Bulma as Krillin laid Chi-Chi out on the couch.

Bulma massaged her forehead, her pretty face fraught with worry lines.  “I’ll get a wet washcloth.”

“Bulma,” Vegeta said.  “Where’s the note?”

Bulma stopped short, turning to Vegeta with her brows furrowed.  “Huh?”

“The note,” Vegeta pressed, shooting his hand out.  “Hand it over. I want to read it.”

Bulma raised a brow, scrutinizing him before she reached in her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.  She darted past him to tend to Chi-Chi after Vegeta snatched it, unfolded it, and scanned the page. The sloppy scrawl said enough - exactly what he knew these sorts of lowlife bastards would do.  Bulma returned to his side, rushing toward him. Crumpling the page in his fist, Vegeta threw the note to the ground with a growl.

“Vegeta,” Bulma said, meeting his gaze with alarm.  “There were detectives, helping Chi-Chi take Majin Buu down.  She mentioned their names - Kami and Pickle-something. Maybe if we talk to them-“

Vegeta shook his head sharply.  “Not worth the risk. Buu’s men are watching us right this instant.  Goku was obviously overconfident, if he could be watched here and unaware of it.  I’m not going to make that same mistake.”

Vegeta turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, poring over the details from the note, the amount of time since Goku had been seen by anyone.  He spent a good amount of time in silence, and he was thankful for the fact that Bulma didn’t disturb him, and as he overheard during the course of his thought, didn’t allow Krillin to disturb even when he intended to say his farewells, heading away from the penthouse to join his awaiting family.  The lawyer would be fine. She didn’t need more than Bulma fawning over her weakness. Vegeta’s eyes glossed over the buildings across the way, detecting a possible shimmer of movement on the rooftops. He hated knowing he was being watched and unable to do something about it. With a sneer, he raised his middle finger toward the flash of light he’d spotted.  Held captive. Used as a weapon against an important client. These were problems Vegeta had never been up against. He found this whole thing frustrating - and suspicious. He was missing something.

“Vegeta,” Bulma called from beside the sofa, “I think she’s coming around!”

When Vegeta turned, Bulma thrust a cup of water toward Chi-Chi, whose eyes batted open.  "Here, Chi-Chi. Drink."

Chi-Chi reached for the glass, sitting up with the wet cloth tumbling down from her forehead.  "Bulma," Chi-Chi sipped the water and sighed, “what-"

Vegeta turned back to the window, another setting movement in his peripherals catching his eye.  He crossed his arms and scowled toward the neighboring high rises. Maybe he was imagining it. In truth, he didn’t know where Buu’s men were.  This was what bothered him the most.

"Have you called the police?" Chi-Chi said.  “Piccolo? Kami?"

Silence.  There would be no police.

"Why haven't you done anything for him?”

"Chi-Chi..." Bulma said.

"The note said no police." Vegeta turned from the window to look directly at Chi-Chi. "It also said that they're watching you and they'll know." Vegeta inclined his chin towards the nightlife skyline outside. "I'm pretty sure they're right up there."

Chi-Chi gasped and moved, collapsing back into the couch when her knees gave out. "What does he  _ want _ ?"

Chi-Chi narrowed her eyes at both of them.  Gritting her teeth, she lunged forward, still sitting on the sofa but poised in a domineering fashion, as if ready to attack at a moment's notice if anyone upset her. Vegeta tensed.  He didn’t like seeing Bulma so near an aggressively-poised person. He didn’t know what kind of madness this recent situation, or Goku himself, could’ve driven this lawyer to. She might’ve been Bulma’s best friend, but Vegeta didn’t trust her.  He didn’t trust anyone until they proved their worth. He needed to stop Chi-Chi before she did something stupid.

"What do you think he wants?" Vegeta blasted, causing Bulma to shoot him an admonishing glare while Chi-Chi inhaled sharply, finally realizing the truth. "What I don't understand is why they went after your bodyguard."

Vegeta made a suspicious leer toward Chi-Chi. She blinked before grimacing.  Vegeta pursed his lip. She knew something. It could be something useful. But as he waited, she remained tight-lipped.  Vegeta needed to give her a push.

"Kill him?" Vegeta continued with a shrug, "Sure, they try to kill us all the time. But  _ holding _ him?"

Chi-Chi gasped before looking at Bulma. Bulma’s demeanor had changed during Vegeta’s prodding, showing Vegeta he’d struck a chord with her curiosity.  He was surprised Bulma hadn’t realized it herself. She’d allowed the emotions of worrying about two friends to cloud her judgment. It was plain as day, though.  Buu’s organization should’ve taken out the bodyguard. It was possible they had and the man missing a finger was no longer alive, but then why the message? Buu expected results from their reaction.  Judging by Chi-Chi’s current behavior of jumping to her feet and searching the room, Buu has elicited the response he expected.

Chi-Chi narrowed her eyes at the box on the coffee table. She grimaced as she reached for the box, pulling back the cardboard flap to eye the contents. Vegeta watched as Chi-Chi squinted discerningly, before breathing a sigh. "It's not his."

"What?" Bulma said.

Vegeta’s eyes bulged.  He paced across the room, frustrated with himself for never considering that.  Someone else’s finger would be a clever ruse. But how in the hell would Goku’s most recent client know a fake finger from a real one?  Vegeta had to see for himself.

"How can you tell?" Vegeta said as he pushed Bulma aside to look into the box for himself.

"Goku's hands are not that well-manicured,” Chi-Chi said as she pointed.

The fingernail was perfectly rounded, the cuticle pressed back on the bloody, discoloring stump. Vegeta had noticed it before.  He had never noticed Goku’s fingers when spending time around his obnoxious coworker. Bulma peered into the box alongside Vegeta and Chi-Chi, nearly turning green during her observation.

Chi-Chi looked away from the box as Bulma raised her gaze to look at Vegeta with an understanding frown.  Bulma saw it, too. There was the clever woman Vegeta knew. Yes, he was sure Bulma hadn’t recognized the state of Goku’s nails when she spent time around him, either.  But Chi-Chi had.

"So, Chi-Chi," Bulma said as she crossed her arms, "do you inspect all your hired help that closely?"

Vegeta grinned as Bulma's knowing smile penetrated Chi-Chi's gaze, causing Chi-Chi to gawk.  When Chi-Chi’s eyes turned toward him, fraught with innocence and cluelessness, Vegeta glared at her. He knew now this was partly her fault.  She’d done something stupid. 

Chi-Chi worked her way past being flustered to return the glare as she stated proudly, "Goku and I are involved."

Vegeta held his glare, slightly more annoyed by this complication than he was amazed at the idea of Goku landing a woman, a client no less, and one as seemingly intelligent as this blushing lawyer had to be, judging by her performance in court.  

“When were you going to tell me?" Bulma squealed, wrapping her arms around Chi-Chi.  "I should have known you and Goku would be perfect together!" 

Bulma released her blushing, smiling friend, giggling as she cast a brief smile over her shoulder towards Vegeta.  Vegeta sneered. He was in no mood for celebration. They’d just received horrible news - confirmation that Buu did indeed have leverage over this DA trying to put that scum away.  Goku had let his guard down around this woman and fucked up big.

"Oh, yes,” Vegeta drawled. "This is fucking perfect."

Bulma's smile fell as Chi-Chi glared at Vegeta.  He wasn’t going to hear it from either one of them.

"A  _ finger _ was just mailed here as a threat," Vegeta said, "and now you women are forgetting all about that threat because of a lousy  _ manicure _ ?"

"Vegeta, it has to be someone else's finger,” Bulma said as she haughtily placed her hands on her hips. "He must have someone else. Maybe Buu made a mistake."

"Then how do you explain the fact that Goku isn't here?" Vegeta said as he crossed his arms. "Majin Buu didn't make a mistake. He  _ has _ that idiot. Him and someone else."

As Bulma processed Vegeta's accurate conclusion, her mouth fell open. Vegeta growled as he turned away to pace towards the windows.  He needed to think. Bulma was in more danger than ever now that Vegeta was alone in protecting these two women, now that Vegeta knew Buu would target anyone close to Chi-Chi.  Bulma was the most likely candidate for the next target of Chi-Chi didn’t give into these demands. Giving into Buu’s demands meant keeping him on the street, though. That left him dangerous, a threat Bulma didn’t need.  Vegeta clenched his fists by his sides. He was between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t protect Bulma the way he should here.

"Will you stop calling Goku an idiot?" Chi-Chi yelled.

Vegeta spun to face her, baring his teeth. "No! He  _ is _ an idiot for being careless enough to let himself get taken! It's his own fault - and yours!"

" _ My _ fault?"

"That's right." Vegeta nodded.

Bulma gaped incredulously at the argument, standing between them.  Vegeta raised his finger, extending it past Bulma to point it accusingly in Chi-Chi's face. Chi-Chi bared her teeth back at him.

"He would have never been caught in some lousy criminal's trap," Vegeta growled, "if he didn't have some piece of ass distracting him from his work!"

Chi-Chi visibly trembled, her face turning red.  She pushed Bulma aside, pulled her hand back and smacked it hard across Vegeta's cheek.  There was a sting of pain. Vegeta balked before glaring back at the bitch. Chi-Chi glared right back at Vegeta, until Bulma stubbornly stepped between them, pressing them away from each other by the chests.

"That's enough!" Bulma yelled before meeting Vegeta’s gaze with a glare. "Pointing fingers won't help Goku."

Vegeta clenched his jaw as he glared at Bulma, before he turned his glare at Chi-Chi again. Chi-Chi tensed, but said nothing.  Vegeta bared his teeth. Goku was in danger. He was in danger because of this woman. In all the years Vegeta had known him, Goku had never let his guard down like this.  He’d always been one of the best, but now had forgotten the first rule of guarding, all because of a woman.

Bulma spoke before Vegeta could say anything. "You know what they say about throwing stones at glass houses, Vegeta."

Bulma’s narrowed eyes were focused on Vegeta, challenging him, teasing him, even as her friend watched and put the pieces together.  Vegeta’s lips were tightly sealed. She’d cornered him. There was nothing he could say without having to discuss him and her further.  He wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t going to have that discussion in front of her friend, either, looking like a hypocrite. Bulma turned her sly smile from Vegeta to Chi-Chi. Raising her brows, Bulma caused Chi-Chi to furrow her brows in confusion.

"Dammit, Bulma." Vegeta growled through his teeth as he shook his head and turned away.

"Now, Chi-Chi," Bulma said, "I know what Majin Buu wants from you - what his demands are."

Vegeta nodded.  The demands had been printed clearly in the letter, between gross threats and vulgar harassments.  It was good they never showed the lawyer the letter. Seeing how she’d reacted to Vegeta’s insults, she would’ve been a raging lunatic after reading what Majin Buu had to say.  Vegeta clenched his fists, feeling a similar sensation. He couldn’t do anything for Goku, he didn’t know where he was, he had this emotional bitch friend of Bulma’s on his hands, and he couldn’t confess his feelings to Bulma now.  But he  _ couldn’t _ keep Bulma safe here.  And he’d wanted to see action.  He’d wanted to beat this criminal enemy he had the possibility of encountering.  It looked like he’d arrived here just in time to be beaten by Majin Buu. Vegeta stormed away from the women to be alone in the kitchen.

"He wants to be found not guilty,” Chi-Chi said, “and he's using my feelings for Goku to get his verdict."

Vegeta slammed his palm against the granite countertop.  “Fuck!”

Vegeta stormed away from the women’s gasping reactions, the burn of Bulma’s eyes on his back.  He slipped into the guest room where Bulma had spent the night, slamming the door closed behind him.  He needed time alone to think. He paced the room, the lingering scent of Bulma’s perfume and the sight of her unmade bed calming him.  In court tomorrow, Chi-Chi could either do as Buu demanded and let him off in the hopes that he would let Goku go free, as promised in the letter, or she could prosecute the hell out of the bastard.  Vegeta leaned heavily toward the second option. Prosecuting Buu would result in his incarceration, leaving Bulma safe from being taken as his next target. The fleeting thought of Bulma’s painted fingernail in a similar package to the one recover today made Vegeta wince.  His stomach twisted before he pushed that thought from his mind, resuming his pacing. The only way this could go their way was if they did something to change the outcome. Chi-Chi had to convict Majin Buu without putting Goku’s life in danger. Bulma would be a mess if anything happened to her old friend.  Vegeta didn’t want to think about it. Without Goku around to keep pushing him, he worried he’d grow soft in this business. And then he’d be insufficient in protecting Bulma. He shot a glance toward the closed door, noticing the women had grown quiet, their conversation subsiding. Bulma was out there, more vulnerable and endangered than ever.  Suddenly, Vegeta wished he’d taken the time to tell her. Before today, he’d put it off, thinking there was plenty of time to let the woman know how she’d weaseled her way into his heart. Now, knowing she could be taken from him at any moment, as easily as Goku had been taken, he wished he could say something. But it wasn’t the time. For now, Bulma was safe with him.  Goku was the one in danger. Buu had to go.

Vegeta clenched his fists, resolving to make sure Buu paid for this, one way or another - and vowing to himself that once this was all over, he wouldn’t waste another second when he had a chance with Bulma.

 


	13. To the Diner

Watching Chi-Chi battle it out in court, with her hands tied the way they were, was painful.  Bulma bit her cheek as she watched the exchanges between Chi-Chi and Buu’s defense attorney, Chi-Chi and Judge Satan, Chi-Chi and the detectives sitting to Bulma and Vegeta’s side, and between Chi-Chi and Majin Buu himself.  The defendant was an ugly man. Intimidating, too. Bulma couldn’t believe Chi-Chi had been confrontational with him prior to today’s session. Her lawyer friend had a lot of gall.

"All rise!" the court officer called, prompting everyone to stand as Judge Satan turned his back to them and headed for his chamber door.

When Chi-Chi turned around, Bulma felt her heart drop.  She couldn’t imagine what Chi-Chi was going through. To be up against a mob boss who wanted her dead in a civil courtroom setting, unable to even take a swing at him in a legal sense, while knowing the creep had Goku...Bulma winced.  She couldn’t even think of Vegeta being in the same predicament. A sideways glance at his tense jawline and narrowed eyes reassured her, before she turned to meet Chi-Chi’s strained gaze, offering her friend a reassuring smile.

Chi-Chi stepped forward. "I can't do this anymore."

"I'll say,” Bulma agreed whole heartedly, crossing her arms and looking past Chi-Chi.

Buu's defense attorney was busy chatting to a group of people congratulating him.  Him. There were a lot of jerks in the courtroom today, but that lawyer took the cake.  He had this trial handed to him on a silver platter, and it was so obvious, yet he was getting praise for how well it was going, while Chi-Chi was getting dirty looks from the very detectives and invested victims of this criminal here who should’ve been on her side.

"This trial is bullshit,” Vegeta said as he shifted his stance and crossed his arms.

"I have to prosecute this to the best of my abilities,” Chi-Chi said with determination.

Bulma’s eyes bulged, her jaw dropping.  Chi-Chi has to be out of her mind. They’d already decided before trial that this was the only way.  They had no other way of assuring Goku’s safety than playing along for now. Yet for some reason, Vegeta smirked, looking like he agreed with Chi-Chi.

"But, Chi-Chi!" Bulma lowered her voice to a harsh whisper and leaned in conspiratorially, "what about Goku?"

"Bulma," Chi-Chi’s voice quivered, "for all we know, Goku may already be dead."

"Chi-Chi!"

Vegeta set his eyes on Chi-Chi. "He's not dead.  Still, he'd be pissed if you lost this trial because of him."

Chi-Chi gulped, looking nervous, before nodding in agreement.  Idiots. They were both being idiots. This wasn’t the plan, and throwing out the plan at a time like this was a bad idea.

"That's all well and good," Bulma said haughtily as she glared at both traitors, "but what the hell happens at the end of the day when Buu goes home today feeling murderous?"

"I have something in mind," Chi-Chi said before setting a serious gaze on Vegeta, "but I'll need your help."

Vegeta lifted his brow. "I'm listening."

Chi-Chi took a deep breath and released it.  "You and Bulma should take your lunch break at a place called Kame House Diner. Goku and I have been frequenting the place." Chi-Chi's eyes darted attentively between Bulma and Vegeta as Bulma knit her brows, absorbing every detail of the plan. "Ask for a line cook named Tien. He's actually an undercover cop who's been talking to Goku and trying to take down Majin Buu."

As soon as she finished speaking, Chi-Chi glanced furtively over her shoulder, as if someone would appear in the now cleared courtroom and listen in on her conversation. There was no one else in sight. They had the courtroom all to themselves, and this plan actually sounded promising.  If they could find Goku before Buu knew Chi-Chi wasn’t going along with his demands, they could save him and take the bastard down!

"You think he'll know where Goku is?" Bulma asked.

"He should,” Chi-Chi said with a shrug. "If  _ he _ doesn't, I don't know who would."

Bulma furrowed her brows.  Chi-Chi said she needed Vegeta for this plan.  If there was an undercover cop in on this, Bulma saw no need for Vegeta to step out of court.  He was better off staying close by to protect Chi-Chi and Bulma if he was needed.

"So why do you need Vegeta?" Bulma asked.

"Because," Vegeta answered, flashing his teeth at Bulma, "once he tells us where to find Goku,  _ I'm  _ going to find him."

Bulma gasped, her eyes widening in realization. "Vegeta, that'll just put  _ you _ in danger!"

When Bulma looked beseechingly at Chi-Chi, Chi-Chi turned away. She was no help.  She should’ve understood Bulma’s reluctance, if she was really so close with Goku.  But then...Bulma frowned. She could see why Chi-Chi was willing to do whatever it took to get Goku out of that situation.  But it wasn’t fair! And Vegeta was throwing himself into this too blindly.

"We should call the  _ police _ when we find out where he is!" Bulma yelled.

Chi-Chi glared indignantly. "That's just what Majin Buu's instructions ordered us  _ not _ to do!"

"We don't need the cops." Vegeta grinned again, looking disturbingly pleased by this new turn of events.  “ _ I'll _ take care of it."

"Vegeta, will you forget about your ego for five seconds?!" Bulma screamed furiously. "We're talking about a mastermind serial killer here!"

"Who  _ has  _ Goku, Bulma!" Chi-Chi yelled.

Bulma shut her mouth tightly as she met Chi-Chi's smoldering, determined glare. She didn’t want Vegeta throwing himself into danger, not now, when she hadn’t had the chance to ask him to commit to something more serious with her.  But she supposed there was no point in asking if he was just going to go and get himself killed. One glance in Vegeta’s direction told her as much. Arguing with him was like talking to a wall, and with Chi-Chi fighting on his side, Bulma knew even  _ her _ impressive powers of persuasion couldn’t fight this duo.  She didn’t need to fight, though. Her  _ other _ best friend, the one who had protected her through so many bad situations in the past, was in danger.  Her gaze softened when her mind conjured an image of Goku, bound and tortured somewhere. He had to make it out of there alive.  He had to. Not another word was spoken as the three of them stood there for a few minutes in silent understanding. Then, Vegeta turned with one curt nod, expecting Bulma to follow behind him as he made his leave from the courtroom.

"Chi-Chi," Bulma whispered gently as she placed a comforting hand on Chi-Chi's shoulder, "I'm sure Goku's okay. I've seen him survive a lot of crazy shit, and somehow he always comes out on top." Bulma's gaze shifted briefly to the courtroom doors as they thudded closed with Vegeta's exit. She smiled at Chi-Chi again. "We'll make sure to talk to this Tien you mentioned. Try not to worry about us. You just focus on kicking Buu's ass in court, okay?"

Chi-Chi smiled and nodded appreciatively at her friend. Bulma turned to hastily leave the courtroom after that, knowing Vegeta would leave without her if she lingered much longer. The asshole was too excited about his chance to get serious.  Now Bulma was sorry she hadn’t exposed him to more violence back in West City.

* * *

Bulma usually didn’t like mom-and-pop diners, but Kame House seemed like a decent place.  The food smelled spectacular. Mouth-watering, actually. Bulma realized she hadn’t enjoyed a great meal since arriving in Satan City, with all the chaos surrounding Chi-Chi’s penthouse.  She glanced at Vegeta. He was trying to hide it, to act as if he was  _ above _ the hunger, but Bulma could see him licking his lips, eyeing the platters of food of the patrons eating at the tables around them.

She tugged on his jacket sleeve.  “Why don’t we sit and have a bite?  No better way to get to a chef than to compliment his food first, right?”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes.  “The man’s a  _ line cook _ .”

Bulma slapped his shoulder.  “He’s a person with feelings.  He must have some pride in what he does.”

“Then he’s a goddamn  _ cop _ ,” Vegeta whispered through clenched teeth, crossing his arms and panning his gaze across the busy diner with not a hostess in sight, “and we should compliment his shooting ability, not his cooking.”

Bulma sent Vegeta a glare just as a young woman walked up to them.  She coiffed her long golden curls and looked Vegeta up and down, sneering rather than smiling.  Bulma pursed her lips as she noticed the nametag pinned to the woman’s busty chest. Launch. Bulma raised a brow.  What kind of name was that?

“You two dining in?” the woman asked with a cock of her head.

Bulma looked at Vegeta, who was looking past the hostess, into the swinging double doors of the kitchen partitioned from the dining room.  With a roll of her eyes, Bulma turned from Vegeta and nodded. “Yes, please.”

Launch eyed Vegeta with a frown.  “Right this way.”

“Come on,” Bulma said, tugging Vegeta by the arm. 

He resisted for only a moment before allowing himself to be pulled along by her.  Bulma shot a glance at the double doors again, noticing them swinging as if someone had just been through them, but she saw no trace of anyone in the doorway.  Vegeta kept his gaze fixed there.

“What?” Bulma whispered.

“Here,” Launch said loudly, drawing Bulma’s attention away from Vegeta.  “I’ll get your menus. What do you two want to drink?”

“Whiskey,” Vegeta said, his eyes never leaving the kitchen doors.

“Honey,” Launch said reprovingly, “we ain’t servin’ whiskey here this early in the day.  You wanna drink? There’s a great bar right across-“

Bulma raised her hand, silencing the waitress.  “He’ll have a water. We’ll both have waters.”

“Fine.”

As the waitress turned her back on them, brushing her hips against other filled tables as she made her way back to the kitchen, Bulma turned her eyes on Vegeta.  He was looking at her this time. He was deep in thought, judging by the line creasing his brow and the small frown on his lips. He looked…so handsome. Bulma exhaled, willing herself not to think about that right now.  This wasn’t the time. They needed to find this Tien. Goku’s life was hanging in the balance and now that Chi-Chi had turned up the heat in court, his time was running out. Bulma gnawed her bottom lip, wanting to discuss the future with Vegeta, now that she was dining across from him, but she filed that away for later.  Launch reappeared with two menus, issuing one to Bulma’s awaiting hand.

“Steak,” Vegeta said, keeping his arms crossed when Launch offered the menu.  She tucked it under her arm with a frown as he continued, “baked potato, butter only, and any vegetable that isn’t carrots is fine.  And some onion rings on the side.”

Bulma blinked.  “Vegeta.”

“Man,” Launch chuckled, scribbling this on a pad, “your appetite sounds like someone else’s I know.”

Bulma gasped.  “Goku?”

Launch stopped scribbling, her narrowed green eyes darting to Bulma’s.  “Yeah.”

“He’s a friend of ours,” Bulma said, her words coming in a rush.  “We need to speak to a…a  _ friend _ of his here.  It’s important.”

Launch’s eyes narrowed before she stumbled to the side, pushed aside by a wiry old man whose gaze was fixed on Bulma.  “You need to speak to someone important, young lady? I can help you out!”

As the old man cackled, Launch scoffed.  “Mr. Roshi is the owner here, folks.”

The old man struck out his hand.  “Nice to meet you! I’m always up for welcoming new customers.”

Vegeta bared his teeth as he sneered in the old man’s direction, looking ready to bite the hand off.  Wisely, Roshi tucked his hand to his side, turning a hopeful smile on Bulma as he let out a low whistle.  “My, my. We haven’t had many ladies of your caliper in here lately, Miss. Can I help you with anything?”

“Yes,” Bulma said, smiling tightly, “yes, you can.  I was wondering if I could have a word with one of your line cooks.”

His smile fell.  “Line cook? You’re not…health inspectors or anything, are you?”

Bulma narrowed her eyes.  “Why? You suspect we’d find a problem?”

She caught a glimpse, behind Roshi’s back, of Launch leaning down to whisper something to Vegeta.  Bulma narrowed her eyes as she watched the interaction, at first concerned about it, but as she saw an approving smile cross Vegeta’s face, Bulma hummed.  Maybe Launch was giving Vegeta just the information they needed. Of course, Bulma didn’t see any line cook.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the old man asked, scrutinizing Bulma as he ran his fingers through his white beard.

Bulma smiled.  Vegeta obviously needed more time to talk, and Launch’s mannerisms made it clear to Bulma that the old man’s involvement would only intrude.  She had no problem being a decoy, even though if she had a choice, she’d have a more appealing fan fawning over her.

“Yeah, yeah you’re-“ Roshi’s eyes bulged.  “Bulma Brief!”

“Yes,” Bulma said, beaming at him.  “I’m in town just for the weekend, visiting a friend.”

“Ooh,” the old man cackled, baring his teeth and gums at her as he danced in place.  “Can I take a picture with you?”

As he reached into his pocket, pulling out a phone, Bulma cocked her head and shrugged.  “Sure. I don’t see how it would hurt.”

She stood, straightening her miniskirt cinched around her thighs.  She shook her head and patted her hair into position, making sure the smooth locks of her pixie cut laid perfectly for this shot.  She hated bad pictures. And those things made their way all over the internet it seemed, more than the good ones. With a huff, she allowed the old man to sidle up to her side, wrapping his lanky fingers around her waist.  She grimaced as his fingers pulled at her, feeling a little inappropriate. He held his other hand up, positioning the phone camera for a selfie. 

Bulma frowned.  “You sure you know how to operate that thing, Mr. Roshi?”

He giggled, his fingers crawling lower on Bulma’s hip.  “Oooh, yes!”

The flash blinded Bulma as something crept along her ass, causing her eyes to bulge and her jaw to drop.  Bulma whirled on her companion, punching him in the face while he was still dazed by photo blindness. She didn’t care if it was a cheap shot.   _ He _ took a cheap shot.  The creep deserved it. 

She growled and stomped her foot.  “Pervert!”

Mr. Roshi’s eye (the one  _ not _ swelling closed from that punch) bulged.  As the diner grew silent, all eyes turning on Bulma, the old man smiled nervously.  Bulma huffed and straightened her skirt. She turned her eyes on Vegeta.

“Damn, woman,” Vegeta said, sounding impressed as he stood.

“M-my diner,” Mr. Roshi said, looking around at the disapproving faces.  “My customers.” He laughed. “C-complimentary meals for all.”

Launch scoffed.  “About time somebody did it.”

She turned away, shooting one last glance over her shoulder to give Vegeta a wink.  Vegeta turned to Bulma with a curt nod. She knew it was on. This was it. They were going to see this line cook.  She grabbed the back of her chair, preparing to sit back down, but Vegeta held his hand in front of her, ordering her to stop.  She looked at him, bewildered.

“We’re not staying,” Vegeta said.

“What?”

“We have to move.”

“But-“ Bulma glanced toward the kitchen, catching a glimpse of Launch’s yellow hair disappearing behind the doorway.  “The line cook.”

Vegeta shook his head.  “Not here. We need to move  _ now _ .”

* * *

They’d taken the food to go.  No use going into a firefight on an empty stomach – which was apparently where they were heading.  As they raced forward in the car, Bulma driving while Vegeta chowed down in the passenger seat, Bulma shook her head and clutched her fingers around the steering wheel.  The story Vegeta was relaying to her still didn’t make sense.

“So Launch knows all of this because…?”

“Because,” Vegeta said, biting off another chunk of steak, “she’s a stalker.  She’s obsessed with the guy. Couldn’t get her to shut up about the lousy bald pig.”

“Okay, so,” Bulma said, furrowing her brows before scowling at a red light up ahead, “if Tien led Goku to someplace and Goku’s being held captive now, doesn’t that make Tien the bad guy?  Is this a doublecross?”

“I don’t think-“

Vegeta chewed, his cheeks bulging before he sucked savory juices off his fingertips.  Bulma stared, her heart pumping furiously until a horn blared from behind her. She looked up to see the light turned green, a clear road up ahead.  It wouldn’t be much farther until they arrived. When she turned to Vegeta again, he was tossing the bag full of remaining takeout out his window, reaching with the other hand into the back of his pants.  Bulma yelped when she saw the barrel of a gun.

“-he’s on Buu’s side, Bulma,” Vegeta finished, unloading his gun and checking it over.  “This woman has been watching him for months. She kept going on about what a great undercover he was.  Yeah, right.” Vegeta scoffed, cradling his loaded gun in his hands. “So great he allowed a  _ diner waitress _ to discover his identity.”

“So then,” Bulma said, gnawing her bottom lip as she focused on driving and the escalating situation they were approaching, “if Tien was really helping Goku when he drew him away somewhere-“

“At the same time he disappeared,” Vegeta said.

“-then Tien’s in trouble, too.  Buu has men watching an experienced bodyguard  _ and _ an undercover cop.  And you’re going into this  _ alone _ ?”

As Bulma turned a glare on Vegeta, her voice raising with her fear, Vegeta met her gaze.  Impassive. Determined. Frightening. There was no way she was talking him out of this. The only thing that reassured her was the way his gaze softened, ever so subtly, after he read the concern in her eyes and her voice.

“Bulma,” Vegeta said.

Bulma fixed her gaze on the road, focusing on the chainlink fence-bordered warehouse approaching.  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Stop here.”

“What?”

“Stop here!”

Bulma slammed her foot on the brakes, cursing herself for not thinking things through before doing so.  She glanced in the rearview mirror, relieved to see no cars behind her. When she turned, Vegeta was halfway out his door.  “Hey, wait!”

Vegeta slammed the passenger door shut and ducked his head through his open window.  “Go back to the courthouse. Call that shrimp and get him to the courthouse, on the lawyer’s security duty again.”

Bulma blinked.  “Krillin?”

“Yeah.” Vegeta glanced toward the warehouse, his eyes widening as if he heard something.  “If this doesn’t go well, Buu’s going to kill her.”

Bulma gasped and lunged across the console to come face to face with Vegeta.  “Chi-Chi? What about Goku?”

Vegeta fixed his glare on the distant warehouse.  “I’m going in. That idiot’s my problem now. You take care of the lawyer.”

“Vegeta!” Bulma gasped, lunging forward as he pulled away from the car.  “Vegeta, be careful! Kick some ass!”

Vegeta didn’t turn back, but Bulma knew he heard her when he raised his hand in the air, indicating he had things under control.  Bulma took a deep breath and put the car into drive. She grunted, determined to kick some ass herself. She reached for her phone, dialing Krillin as she stepped on the gas, whirling the car around to head back in the direction of the courthouse.  As the phone rang in her ear, Bulma ground her teeth, focusing on fighting traffic to get herself back into that courthouse as soon as possible. One of her best friends was vulnerable, waiting on her. Her other best friend was in Vegeta’s hands. She tried not to think about Goku or Vegeta.  If she thought about them too much, she might not succeed at doing what  _ she _ had to do.  Vegeta would succeed.  He’d save Goku’s life, and hopefully that undercover cop’s as well.

Bulma shook her head.  “Here’s your chance, Vegeta.  Don’t you dare fuck this up. I’m going to want you to marry me when this is all over.”

She sped ahead, the engine growling as she gave it more gas, speeding through the open road.  She’d use back roads and manipulate the traffic system to make her way back to the courthouse at top speed.  She wouldn’t dare fuck this up. She planned to be here for Vegeta to kiss and make sweet love to when this was over, too.  She bit her lip just thinking about it. Vegeta running into danger was sexy.

 


	14. In the Nick of Time

Vegeta’s grip on his gun was sure and steady as he ran down the street.  He leapt off the pavement, through an open section of fencing torn apart.  The sunlit dirt parking lot was wide open, leaving Vegeta feeling vulnerable.  But he didn’t give a shit. This was his game now, and the best thing he had going for him was the element of surprise.  When he found those bastards holding Goku, they wouldn’t know what hit them.

As Vegeta ran past the locked facilities, he focused on the sounds around him.  There wasn’t much, save for the shuffling of his feet against the gravel, not at first.  But as he made his way deeper into the lot, he overheard a scuffle. A definite groan sounded from within those walls before something banged, rattling the sheets of metal not too far ahead.  Vegeta approached the metallic wall, still quick on his feet, but careful not to draw attention to himself. His eyes darted to a door sealed shut. The padlock outside it hung open. He heard groaning from within as he pressed lightly on the door.  A slit of darkness revealed nothing to his eyes, but the tension from within, joined with the stink of death, set his senses on fire. He cocked his gun and raised it, prepared to use it at any moment. 

As he pushed the door open an inch more, he heard laughter from within.

"You're dead."

Vegeta’s eyes bulged as he threw the door open.  He squinted into the darkness, intent on reading the situation right away.  The laughter was coming from a hunched, tall figure standing over a chair. He had the barrel of a gun pressed against the head of the man sitting in that chair.  Even with his vision clouded by darkness, Vegeta recognized that sitting figure. That was Goku’s silhouette. With a gun to his head. A maniac proclaiming him dead.  Bodies all around them. 

Vegeta felt a wave of adrenaline as he raised his gun.  He didn’t need any more information about who he was about to shoot.  He didn’t have time to question his decision. It was shoot now, or watch Goku die and ask questions later.

Vegeta fired.

He watched the back of the only figure standing in the darkened room, now highlighted by vague silhouettes becoming clearer with the light pouring in through the door.  Vegeta stilled, watching from the doorway as the whites of Goku’s eyes appeared, previously closed off from view. When the tall gunman’s head fell back on his shoulders, Goku gasped.  Vegeta clenched his jaw, watching a trail of blood leak from a wound in the potential murderer’s neck.

The bleeding man’s body went limp, collapsing in front of Goku’s chair with a heavy thud.  As Goku furrowed his brows, looking to the ground beside the man, Vegeta followed his gaze.  A bald, muscled man laid unconscious, alive or dead, Vegeta didn’t know. Beside him was a midget with a pale face, unconscious and clearly not breathing.  Goku gasped and looked Vegeta’s way, laughing when he recognized Vegeta.

Vegeta holstered his gun and smirked. "How many times have I told you that no one gets to kill you on the job as long as I'm working with you?"

"I guess you have to remind me again,” Goku said with a tired smile.

Vegeta walked into the room, wrinkling his nose at the smell and the thickness of the stuffy air.  He stepped behind Goku’s chair, untying the ropes that had him bound there. Vegeta shook his head as he worked the knots.  He expected better than this from Goku. They’d trained together. Practiced against one another. The only way this could’ve happened, well it had nothing to do with lack of skill.

"That's because you're an idiot,” Vegeta said, “and you can't remember shit."

As Goku's limbs sprung free, something moved beside Vegeta.  He grunted as the supposedly slain gunman rose as if resurrected. He lunged at Vegeta. Stumbling back from the attack, Vegeta knocked Goku over.  His attacker wrapped his thick fingers around Vegeta's throat.

"Vegeta!" Goku called as Vegeta clutched the man’s powerful hands and struggled to pull them from his throat.

Vegeta tried to speak, but only gurgling noises arose from his pinched throat as his enemy panted and growled, looking more enraged than any enemy Vegeta had ever faced.  Their eyes met and in the eyes of his strangler, Vegeta saw a red-eyed monster simmering with rage. Vegeta couldn’t breathe, his lungs burning for oxygen as he struggled, feeling himself weakening.  When Vegeta lurched away from his attacker, a gunshot boomed, deafening him in the enclosed warehouse room. Vegeta clenched his eyes shut at the sound, opening his eyes to find a bullethole singed between those dark, haunting eyes which had been glaring at him seconds ago.

Vegeta jerked his neck from the weakening grasp of his attacker, falling to his knees.  He looked toward Goku standing over him, whose gun and narrowed eyes remained fixed on their enemy.  There was no way that man wasn’t dead now.

Sirens blared from outside. Goku and the bald guy rousing to consciousness on the ground inhaled sharply, lifting their gazes toward the doorway. Vegeta rubbed his neck, which still ached and burned from that attack, as he looked to the open doorway.  He smiled, knowing those sirens were coming for them, and exactly who sent them. Goku turned from the confused man on the ground, questioning Vegeta with a look.

"Bulma,” Vegeta rasped.

Vegeta planted a foot on the ground, climbing to his feet as his breathing slowly returned to normal. He turned his head to glare at the dead man behind him as Goku furrowed his brows. The other men’s confusion was lessened by two armed policemen pounding through the door with their guns drawn.

"Police!" they announced in unison, while one aimed at Vegeta and one at Goku, "Drop the gun and step away from the body!"

Goku tossed his gun as Vegeta stepped back from the recently-slain body with his hands up. The bald man rose to his feet and assumed the same posture just behind Goku and Vegeta. Vegeta cast a glance at the man, assessing him, assuming this had to be the diner cop Chi-Chi told him about.  Some help he’d been.

Within minutes, the officers investigated the scene, confirming the deaths of a total of four bodies on the ground before collecting the weapons for evidence. The bald man was identified by the police as the undercover agent, Tien, and pronounced clear to go. Tien sighed heavily when he approached Goku and Vegeta again.

"You alright, Tien?" Goku asked before turning to Vegeta. "How did you know where to find us?"

"Your girlfriend told us  _ he _ would know," Vegeta said as he pointed at Tien, "but when we went to find the guy-"

"I wasn't there," Tien interrupted.

Vegeta glared at the interruption. "Fortunately, one of the waitresses at that diner has been stalking this scum cop-"

At Tien's irritated glower, Goku shook his head apologetically. "Don't mind Vegeta."

Vegeta clenched his teeth, irritated.  He was sorry he bothered explaining anything if he was going to be interrupted every five seconds.  He glared at the lousy cop friend of Goku’s. He was scum and he deserved to be called out for it after the fuckup Vegeta had witnessed.  The cop had no idea what he’d almost cost Vegeta. If Buu had been allowed to take this a step further, he could’ve got to Bulma. Fortunately, there was a crazy waitress around to straighten out the facts and give Vegeta the chance to save the dumbasses who’d gotten themselves captured.  Fortunately, she’d been watching his every move, up to the point where he left the diner with Goku, speaking of a warehouse which she’d trailed the cop to once in the past. Fortunately, that guy Vegeta had just killed  _ was _ Buu, and he was no longer a threat to Bulma.  He had a fucking  _ waitress _ to thank for Bulma’s safety.

"-and she knew exactly where the two of you had gone," Vegeta concluded, glaring at Goku for the second interruption.

"Wait." Tien furrowed his brow. " _ Stalking _ me?"

"Oh," Goku laughed, "he means Launch." Goku smiled at the stunned cop. "She's crazy about you, Tien. I'm surprised you don't see it."

Vegeta blinked at Goku before shaking his head. "Who cares about that? Has anyone noticed that we just killed your big, bad murderer here?”

"Yeah!" Goku beamed.  “Thanks for saving our asses, Vegeta!"

Vegeta raised his chin and snorted as a pair of shadows lurked through the doorway. They stopped abruptly as a gruff voice interrupted their conversation. "What are you  _ thanking him _ for?"

Goku smiled. "Piccolo!"

The older detective frowned as Piccolo scoffed, eyeing the body on the ground. "He's dead."

"That's right,” Vegeta said.   _ Damn right. _

"Shit," Piccolo cursed before narrowing his eyes at Vegeta. "You did this?"

The old man groaned. "We were supposed to take him alive so he could be prosecuted in court."

"Do you know how long Kami and I worked on that fucking case?" Piccolo said.

"Oops." Vegeta hissed through his teeth. “Guess you can't do that now."

"Sorry, Detectives. That's my fault,” Goku said.

Goku rubbed the back of his head, that annoying habit of his, paired with the frown on his face, telling Vegeta he felt guilty.  Vegeta didn’t know all the details of what led to this, but it was obvious these detectives wanted to imprison Buu, and Goku’s girlfriend wanted to prosecute the thug for his crimes.  It was also obvious that ending up captured by the dick and being used for blackmail to prevent that was the worst fuckup of protection duty Vegeta had ever seen in all his years on the job.  Goku was right to feel like shit.

"It's not your fault, Goku,” Kami said.

Piccolo glared at Goku and then Vegeta. "I'm going to have to take you both in for questioning. Standard procedure."

Vegeta scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Sure."

Old men apologizing to Goku, young men challenging Vegeta, what else was new?  It wasn’t like he barged in here to save lives, no. In the detectives’ eyes, Vegeta just barged in here to kill someone.

They weren’t completely wrong.

"That won't be necessary, Detectives,” Tien said. "I can testify that it was all self-defense."

Piccolo scoffed, while Kami studied the other dead bodies on the ground. "I'm assuming Majin Buu killed the rest of them?"

Tien frowned as he pointed to one of the unnamed bodies Vegeta had noticed after the altercation.  Guy looked like a hired hand. "Chiaotzu killed that one." Then he pointed to the dead midget. “That's Chiaotzu. He saved my life."

Kami placed a hand consolingly on Tien's shoulder. "Are you going to be alright, officer?  Maybe you should step outside and get some fresh air. The medics should be here by now."

Vegeta followed the old man’s gaze to Tien’s bloodstained hand.  His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the source of the missing finger.  Vegeta didn’t know much about Buu, but he couldn’t deny that the move was well-played.  Goku hadn’t lost a finger, but the thug had still managed to scare the shit out of the prosecutor who was so blinded by her feelings for this idiot that she’d been willing to do as Buu demanded.

"And you," Piccolo said as his hand landed firmly on Vegeta's shoulder, "need to come with me to answer some questions about what happened here."

"Hey! Wait, Piccolo,” Goku called. "Can I speak to him for a minute?"

"What for?" Vegeta snapped.

"Well, I-"

"If you're planning on giving me some long winded talk for saving your life," Vegeta said, "you can forget it. You won't hear any thank-yous from  _ me _ , either."

Vegeta met Goku's eyes, appreciating the moment as he remembered Goku shooting that prick between the eyes before Vegeta could’ve died of asphyxiation at Buu’s hands.  He saw the sincerest appreciation in Goku’s dark eyes, but Vegeta still refused to allow him to speak a word of it. He knew he’d saved the bastard. He would do it again, too.  There were always more opportunities for danger and watching each other’s backs.

"All right, Vegeta,” Goku relented with a smile.  “I know you're in a hurry to be interrogated by Detective Piccolo."

Goku chuckled.  As Piccolo smirked, Vegeta groaned at the idea of sitting in a small room at the mercy of that asshole.  Now he was almost sorry he didn’t let Goku thank him. 

No, he wasn’t.

"I'll call the coroner and CSI to wrap things up here," Kami said, "you go ahead, Piccolo."

As Piccolo nodded, Vegeta turned for the door, hearing the detective’s footsteps following behind him.

"Am I free to go?" Goku said.

"With Detective Piccolo, of course,” Kami said to Goku as Vegeta squinted, stepping out into the bright sunlight.  “You should get some fresh air and see the medics first. You've looked better."

“Thanks, Kami.”

A swarm of police cars were stationed in the parking lot of the storage facility, including a medic truck with medics tending to Tien, CSU vehicles, and police cars with their blue and red lights still shining on their roofs, the sirens silenced.

Vegeta fell in step, allowing the detective to lead the way to the correct vehicle so he could head to the station and get this interrogation over with.  He caught a glimpse of Goku heading to the medic truck to join Tien and chuckled. That man, more bruised and battered than Vegeta had ever seen him, was going to have a conniption over there; Vegeta was glad he’d have no part of his medical attention.

Vegeta froze, watching Piccolo do the same ahead of him as tires screeched.  The officers and the medics on the scene all stopped what they were doing to look at the approaching blue car. It skidded to an abrupt stop just feet away from him.  Vegeta smiled. Bulma. She’d made it, with Chi-Chi’s father driving, Krillin in the passenger seat, but Vegeta knew Bulma wouldn’t hang back. Undoubtedly, she would be in that backseat, intent on being here and seeing the fallout for herself.

A head of blue hair emerged from the back door of that car.  “Goku! Vegeta!"

Bulma smiled at Goku, looking relieved to see him safe outside the storage unit, before turning her head to and fro, searching, undoubtedly for Vegeta.  He hardly heard Chi-Chi call Goku’s name as she sprang from the car, his attention so wrapped in Bulma’s Beautiful face. She looked stunning, lit by the sunlight, her blue hair shimmering, blue eyes wide with concern.  Vegeta was almost sorry when she spotted him. He could’ve kept watching longer.

“Vegeta!” Bulma called again as she sprinted toward him.

Vegeta cast a sideways glance at the detective by his side, who caught his eye, looked at Bulma, and nodded.  “I’ll give you a minute. Don’t be long.”

Vegeta looked around the parking lot, aware of all the people as Bulma drew near to him, a dazzling smile on her face.  He caught a glimpse of Goku and Chi-Chi embracing, their lips meeting in a desperate reunion that drew a frown to his face.  All Vegeta wanted now was to ravage Bulma, take her someplace private where he could show her how desperately relieved he was that she’d made it through this alive and unharmed.  He didn’t know if he could wait. But here, in the open, they had witnesses. He wanted to be serious about this thing with her, but he didn’t know if she did.

“Oh, Vegeta,” Bulma breathed, wrapping her arms around him, dousing him in her alluring scent, “I was so scared.  I’m glad you’re alive!”

Vegeta raised his arms, letting his hands hover just short of hugging Bulma, feeling awkward.  All eyes were on him. He felt heat rushing to his cheeks. Goku might be willing to make a fool of himself in front of all these people, but Vegeta would not sacrifice his pride. He could restrain himself and wait for a more appropriate moment.  He was relieved when Bulma released him to look into his eyes. 

He huffed, crossing his arms and looking away from her, showing their audience there was nothing to see here.  

Bulma huffed, her tone sounding amused.  “You  _ are _ still alive, right?”

Vegeta snorted.  “Of course I am! Majin Buu was nothing.  A lowlife with a gun.”

She gasped.  “Oh! But your neck-“

Vegeta batted away the hand reaching for his welted, throbbing skin.  “It’s nothing.”

“Thank you,” Bulma said softly, surprising Vegeta with her endearing tone.  “For saving Goku, and for helping Chi-Chi and...and for keeping me safe.”

“It’s my job.”

“I know,” Bulma said, her grin spreading to reach her ears.

Vegeta exhaled, taking in those doting eyes.  Bulma was looking at him as if he’d confessed this was all for her.  He hadn’t. He hadn’t said a word of it. And yet, still, she saw through his facade.  He couldn’t hide the fact that deep down, this had been all for her. Every reluctant trudge toward this corrupt city run by a politician and police force he couldn’t stand, every moment spent with that insufferable DA Bulma called a friend, every second spent witnessing that torturous court proceeding, and every hit and leap into danger was for Bulma.  Vegeta swallowed, his throat restrictive and tight. As Bulma nodded, he let down his resistance, just a bit.

“You’re welcome,” he rasped, turning his gaze from her quickly to avoid another onslaught of emotional manipulation.

Bulma’s peal of laughter drew Vegeta to turn his gaze back to her anyway, in spite of himself.  When his wide eyes met her shining face, Bulma leaned forward, planting firm supple lips against Vegeta’s gaping mouth.  Vegeta frowned into the kiss, noting in his peripherals the eyes of the workers and Bulma’s friends surrounding him.

When she released his lips, Vegeta balked.  “What’d you have to do  _ that _ for?”

“Oh, Vegeta,” Bulma said with a dismissive wave, “you can’t have everything your way all the time. Just thank me and move on.”

“ _ Thank _ you?” Vegeta blasted.

“You’re welcome,” Bulma said with a sassy lilt of her shoulder.

She turned away from him, sauntering back to the blue car as if she’d just won something.  As Vegeta watched the others pile back into the car, rolling his eyes, the hard clap on his shoulder made him groan.

“Let’s go,” Piccolo said.  “You can call your girlfriend to pick you up when we’re done at the station.”

Vegeta grit his teeth.  She wasn’t his - or maybe she was.  He didn’t know, but he sure as hell didn’t like this bastard making assumptions about his personal business.  This prick was going to pay for that remark.

“When  _ your _ girlfriend finishes interrogating me?” Vegeta said with a grin.  “Or does he stop holding your hand long enough for you to take control?”

Piccolo shoved Vegeta, ushering him toward the car behind them.  “Get in the car, asshole.”

Vegeta chuckled.  As he pulled the car door open, Vegeta cast one last glance Bulma’s way.  He saw her piled into the backseat beside Goku and Chi-Chi, and of course that idiot got off easy, avoiding an interrogation.  People always gave him the benefit of the doubt. When Vegeta’s eyes returned to Bulma, she sent him a wink, puckering her lips at him.  Vegeta shook his head as he swept into the backseat of Piccolo’s car, with the old man waiting in the front seat. Those pigs would suffer his mockery all the way there if they said another word to Vegeta.  As Vegeta lowered his eyes to his lap, he decided. Once they returned to West City, hopefully sooner rather than later, he was going to ask Bulma to marry him. He didn’t like the sound of ‘girlfriend’. It was never something he wanted.  But by marrying Bulma, he could make sure she’d never get away. For the first time in his life, he didn’t mind the idea of someone by his side at all times.

Actually, with Bulma, he looked forward to it.

 


	15. At the Wedding

She’d only had a month to plan it, but it was all the time she needed.  They weren’t playing around. Between Vegeta’s sudden proposal, the whirlwind of planning taking place at Capsule Corporation, and the excitement buzzing about among their friends and the paparazzi keeping up with the Brief heiress’s dark and intriguing new fiancé, it had passed by quickly and efficiently.

And now the day was here.

It had gone swimmingly so far.  How could it not? Bulma had planned it.  Her smile hadn’t stopped all day. Even when she caught Vegeta scowling, she was happy.  She knew he was, too. The jerk just refused to loosen up. But every time he got uptight, all she had to do was smile his way and bat her gorgeous lashes.  His hard exterior would crumble as he blushed like a fool.

When the music stopped, Bulma perked up, her head turning toward the scrawny, lively DJ staged above the dance floor.  Their guests on the floor stopped dancing as Jaco began.

"Let's hear it for the lovely couple!" As Jaco gestured to Bulma and Vegeta, Bulma grabbed Vegeta’s hand and led the way toward the stage. "The new Mr. and Mrs. Prince make a lovely couple, don't they, folks?"

As they took the stage, the ballroom filled with applause. Cheers of their names and congratulations were called out, one of which Bulma explicitly heard from Goku.  Bulma caught a blush on Vegeta’s cheeks, even as he glared at their audience. She squeezed his hand. He’d been this same way during the ceremony. She was trying to show him a good time here.  After all the planning she’d put into this, Bulma wanted the man to at least try enjoying their reception.

She couldn’t hold onto the burst of anger she felt coming.  When she looked into Vegeta’s eyes, she was that which he was hiding from everyone else.  He was truly happy. Maybe not about being here, but about being by Bulma’s side. She hummed, content, taking in Vegeta’s chiseled jawline as it tensed under the pressure of hundreds of eyes and cameras watching them.  His black hair shimmered in the multicolored lights being cast across the dance floor. His lips were so pouty and sexy, even when he scowled. Bulma sighed. Now she had everything she ever wanted.

Bulma turned her eyes from Vegeta to grab the microphone from Jaco’s hand and addressed her guests, "Thank you everyone, for being here today! I'm so lucky to have ended up with such a handsome husband, whose job was literally to protect me when we met."

A gush of 'aww's interrupted as Bulma smiled and Vegeta turned away from the crowd looking uncomfortable.

"So I know," Bulma continued, "that he'll always keep me safe, and honor and protect me as a husband should."

Vegeta scoffed, making Bulma want to kick him.  If it wouldn’t be obvious by the flare of her white organza gown kicking out for all their audience to see, she would’ve done it.  She cleared her throat and forced her attention back onto their audience as the microphone in her fingers rattled their ears with static.

"So," Bulma said, "I want to thank all of our out-of-town guests who came all this way for our wedding."

As Bulma smiled toward Goku, Chi-Chi, Krillin and his family, she smiled.  Goku wiped a shit-eating grin off his face as Krillin straightened his posture and his blonde wife raised a trim brow at Bulma.  Chi-Chi sported a doe-eyed look, smiling enviously at Bulma. Bulma stifled a laugh. Chi-Chi has pestered her into giving Goku a push toward a proposal.  If only Chi-Chi knew. Chi-Chi would be thanking her by the end of the evening. 

"All the way from Satan City," Bulma continued, spanning her eyes across her captive audience, "our good friends Goku and Chi-Chi, as well as her father, and our friend, Krillin and his family, endured a long flight to be here with us on our special day. Thank you, guys."

As applause filled the room, Goku crossed his arms, while Chi-Chi and Krillin blushed.  Bulma smiled, glad to see Goku made uncomfortable. She still had a long way to go if she was going to properly pay him back for that stunt he pulled months ago, putting her in a bad position with a bodyguard she never knew she wanted.  But she suspected he would get off easy. She couldn’t stay mad at him about that, not when the result of it led her here. Still, as she watched Ox Mao stroll up behind her unsuspecting friend and engage her best friends in a conversation that made Goku wince, Bulma hummed to herself in satisfaction.  Yes, he was adequately uncomfortable.

"And now, Ladies," Bulma shot Vegeta a wink no one else could see as she waved her bouquet playfully in front of her, "it's time to catch the bouquet!"

Bulma watched Chi-Chi squeal and rush to the center of the dance floor, plowing herself into the middle while all the other women gathered around there and kept their distance.  She glanced at Ox and Goku left behind by Chi-Chi, seeing the older man chuckling while Goku scratched his neck uneasily, watching the dozens of single women gathering around Bulma and her bouquet.

With a curt nod, Bulma turned her back to the women and lifted and dropped the bouquet in a sweeping motion, laughing while the women made noise and yelled, fighting for position in the crowd. Bulma fixed her gaze on the swinging lavender petals of her hydrangea-and-rose-filled bouquet.  She knew exactly where she was going to grow it. When she swung it upward, she released it, letting it hurl into a screaming crowd of women.

Bulma whirled on her heels to find Chi-Chi shoving an elbow into the woman grasping for the bouquet.  As the woman winced and brought her hands to her chest, Chi-Chi seized the bouquet falling toward the wooden dance floor.  proudly holding a wilty-looking bouquet high in the air. Bulma laughed and clapped her hands together, pleased to see that Chi-Chi managed to catch it, in spite of her violent methods.  Bulma would’ve done the same thing in Chi-Chi’s shoes. As Chi-Chi ran into Goku’s arms, beaming and smacking the bouquet against his chest, Bulma turned to Vegeta.

“See?” she said, her eyes lighting on his raised brow.  “It’s working.”

Vegeta practically snapped his teeth at her.  “Great.”

“Ooh, I need to show her the ring!  Chi-Chi!" Bulma called, noticing Vegeta wince before she turned toward her friends, "come on! We need to take some pictures!"

Bulma waved Chi-Chi toward the stage and smoothed the wrinkles in her gorgeous wedding gown.  She wanted every picture perfect today, if possible. She didn’t spare an expense anywhere here, and she wanted it to show, even when she looked back on this day years later.

“Bulma!” Chi-Chi beamed, clutching the bouquet with both hands as she thrust it toward Bulma’s face.  “I caught it! I think he’s catching on!”

Bulma finished laboring over her skirt and checked the embroidery in her bodice for crumbs.  It all looked perfect in pristine, shimmering white. She smiled at Chi-Chi. “Good god, I hope so.  It’s not like we aren’t drilling it in enough.” 

Vegeta scoffed, causing Bulma and Chi-Chi to both look behind them as he ran a hand over his face.  Bulma raised a questioning brow.

“When do we get to eat?”

“Eat?” Bulma snapped.

“If we’re dragging this out because that moron can’t step up like I did-“

“He’s not a moron,” Chi-Chi snapped, shooting Vegeta a glare.

“And he’s going to step up,” Bulma said, sending her friend a reassuring wink and putting a smile back on Chi-Chi’s face.  “Just follow the plan, Vegeta.”

“How about I beat him up and drop him at an altar?”

Chi-Chi cocked her head.  “That’s...an option.”

“Ladies, smiles!”

Bulma laughed as she turned her face toward the cameraman, who held the camera in front of them and waited for Chi-Chi to raise the bouquet again.  Bulma embraces her friend and maid of honor, squeezing her shoulder as the lights flashed, taking several photos of them together. She hoped she was right about Goku stepping up.  She’d hate to see Chi-Chi disappointed. She deserved to be as happy as Bulma felt now and expected to feel forever. 

* * *

Vegeta had wandered toward the bar, intent on satisfying himself in one way or another. The food wouldn’t be released yet, but he could have his drink.  As Vegeta waited for his old fashioned, tapping a finger on the bar, it struck him, how odd this felt. He’d been at plenty of occasions like these before, always as security though.  It was awkward, being the groom. All of the attention, all of the dancing...Vegeta grimaced.

“Here, sir,” the bartender said as glass clinked against the bar, “and congratulations.”

That was another thing - all the congratulations.  Vegeta wrapped his fingers around the cool glass and sipped at the rim.  The drink was hard and bitter - just the way he liked it. No more of that sweet, bubbling champagne.  Though, seeing Bulma in her flawless hair and makeup, that eye-catching gown, sipping the amber liquid from the elegant fluted glass wasn’t something he’d quickly forget.

Something tapped his shoulder, hard and insistent. "Congratulations, Vegeta!"

Vegeta tensed.  Just when he’d found a moment to be left alone, this idiot had to show up.  Vegeta knew his view of this ceremonial stuff was as equally skeptical as his.  As much as Vegeta didn’t want to be here, Goku wanted to rub in his face the nice suit, the graceful dancing, the romantic kisses exchanged every time some asshole started clinking glasses.

Vegeta glared at the smiling face over his shoulder with a clipped, "Thanks."

Goku's smile widened. "So you're married now, huh?"

Vegeta's frown deepened.  He knew this was coming. This bastard...if he didn’t shut up right now, Vegeta was going to repay him tenfold at his upcoming wedding, which was coming, apparently, whether he wanted it or not.  The women weren’t letting him off the hook.

Goku snickered. "No more women. It's just you and Bulma, for the rest of your life."

Vegeta scoffed through his teeth. "This is  _ some  _ congratulations."

Goku chuckled loudly, making Vegeta growl.  He quelled his fury however,

He shot Goku a smirk. "You shouldn't laugh."

Goku ceased laughing as his brows knit together. Vegeta crossed his arms and nodded toward Bulma and Chi-Chi, who were talking animatedly across the ballroom, Chi-Chi still carrying the bouquet in her hands.

Vegeta chuckled. "Soon enough, it'll be  _ your _ turn."

Goku looked away to study his girlfriend. Vegeta laughed and walked away - but not too far.  He’d spotted Bulma turning toward Goku and knew she was coming to talk to him. He wanted to eavesdrop on what she had to say.  If Vegeta hadn’t scared Goku adequately, he was sure Bulma would say something to push him over the edge. He didn’t want to miss that.

"Congratulations, Bulma,” Goku said.

"Thanks, Goku."

There was a long silence.  The conversation hadn’t ended, because Vegeta could feel the tension building behind him.  Bulma had to be doing something nonverbal. She was good at that.

"Want to see the ring?" Bulma finally said.

Vegeta smiled proudly to himself.  Bulma’s ring was a nearly blinding piece full of diamonds, mounted in gold, cut to exactly Bulma’s tastes. As Goku snickered, Vegeta narrowed his eyes, his lips turning down in a frown. He got the impression Goku thought he was whipped.  Just because he splurged on a monstrous diamond for the woman and had good taste himself didn’t mean he wasn’t in control in this relationship. Bulma would’ve married him if he’d proposed with a toothpick. He treated her to a ring because he preferred to do this with class, not because Bulma had his nuts in a vice.  Growling, Vegeta shot a glare over his shoulder, glad to see Bulma’s face as she scowled at Goku, too.

Bulma rubbed a thumb over her ring and admired it before looking at Goku again. "It's a princess cut. Vegeta knew just what to get me, and let me tell you, I couldn't say no."

Vegeta turned toward the window, admiring the garden view as he sipped his old fashioned and smiled to himself.  Bulma was proud of his choice. That was what mattered.

"Nice?" Bulma’s outburst sounded offended, causing Vegeta to groan as he sipped again and tried not to imagine what Goku was saying.  “It's better than nice. I hope you're taking note, Goku, because it just so happens this is exactly the sort of diamond Chi-Chi would like on her finger someday."

"Why is everyone so interested in me and Chi-Chi getting married? I especially wouldn't expect this from _ you _ on your wedding day, Bulma."

Vegeta nodded.  Goku was exactly right.  For once, he was in complete agreement with that idiot.  Bulma’s stupid maid of honor and her scheme. She could’ve just asked the man to marry her, but no, she had to be so traditional, so now Bulma was roped into a game and dividing her time from Vegeta.  With a sigh, Vegeta shrugged. This was all going to pay off for him in the end. She’d promised if he was patient with this meddling, she’d give him the best sex of their life when they got home. After the past month, Vegeta believed it, though he doubt she could find a way to top what she’d already been doing to him.

Bulma chuckled, sounding guilty.  She snorted. "Sorry, Goku. You know Chi-Chi. Always a lawyer first.  She can't help it. She has to argue her case, witnesses and all."

Goku laughed. "That's Chi-Chi for you. I guess there's nothing for me to worry about, then."

Vegeta raised a brow.  He glanced over his shoulder, confused by Goku’s comment.  Now there was nothing for him to worry about? After all this prodding for him to marry his bossy girlfriend, he wasn’t worried.  He should’ve been. Goku was pulling something from his pocket when Vegeta turned, watching Chi-Chi off in the distance with Krillin’s wife.

When he pulled the item out and flipped it open to Bulma's view, Bulma gasped. "Goku!" Bulma's blue eyes shimmered, reflecting shards of a shining diamond. "It's beautiful."

Vegeta’s jaw dropped.  The fool had a ring already?  He was planning on this? They went through this whole fiasco for nothing?  Vegeta chugged his drink, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth as it scorched his throat.  Son of a bitch. He was such a pain in the ass.

"Wow,” another male voice said. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yamcha!" Bulma exclaimed.

Vegeta groaned.  He turned for the bar, swishing his empty glass in his hand.  He was going to need a refill. Though, curious about Bulma’s ex who was strictly just a friend with whom she spent a lot of time on the phone, Vegeta glanced in Bulma’s direction.  He found a man about Goku’s height releasing Bulma from an embrace. He had long black hair pulled in a ponytail. A notable scar on his face. He didn’t look so tough. Vegeta scoffed.  Bulma had built the guy up just to make Vegeta jealous. Manipulative bitch. Her talents were enviable.

"Congratulations, Bulma,” Yamcha said.

"Yamcha," Goku patted the ring box in his pocket, "how are you liking West City?"

"It's great, Goku." Yamcha smiled at Bulma. "Thanks for hooking me up with a place out here." Yamcha placed his hands in his pockets and eyed Goku.

"What?" Goku asked defensively.

Yamcha made a pointed nod towards Goku's pocket. "You're a lucky guy, Goku." He looked pointedly at Bulma. "So is Vegeta."

Vegeta scoffed, though there was pride behind his scoff.  Of course he was lucky. So was Bulma. No one had to tell him that.  But the guy better not be leading in to make a move on his bride.

Bulma smiled. "Aw, thanks, Yamcha."

Yamcha sighed. "I wonder if I'll ever have anything like what you guys have."

Vegeta shook his head and snapped his fingers at the bartender, thrusting his empty glass forward in a wordless request for his refill.  The bartender took the glass and darted away.

“No,” Vegeta grumbled to himself, and to Yamcha, “no, I don’t think you will.”

"I'm sorry, excuse me," a woman’s voice, not Bulma’s, said from Bulma’s direction, causing Vegeta to glance that way. 

A woman with long blue hair, voluptuous in a red minidress, held Yamcha’s gaze.  She turned away, glancing over her shoulder with a coy smile as she wagged her finger at him to follow.

"Maybe my luck is turning around already,” Yamcha said as he shook Goku's hand and smiled one last time at Bulma before cutting between them to follow his mystery girl. "Congratulations, both of you!"

Vegeta shook his head and groaned.  His drink arrived just in time. As he sipped at it, savoring the buzz washing away the rising irritability he felt listening to this interaction, Vegeta caught Chi-Chi running her finger through the white icing of their wedding cake.  

"Detective Piccolo?” Goku said.  What's up? Yeah."

Vegeta tsked at Chi-Chi’s antics as Goku nodded into the phone. "Sounds good, Piccolo. But we'll have to hold off on making any arrangements for now. I have a question I need answered first."

Vegeta turned back to his drink, knowing exactly which question Goku wanted answered as he pocketed the phone and withdrew another item from his pocket.  Vegeta wanted no part in that. He’d been there, done that already. Now he had a very important bride to satisfy, if he could ever pry her from the festivities and all the attention she was receiving.

“Mister...uh...Prince?” 

Vegeta looked down from the bar, toward the familiar voice.  Oolong smiled up at him, his eyes hopeful and shoulders tense.  Vegeta grunted.

“Congratulations,” Oolong said, wiping his brow.  “So, yeah. Bulma sent me over here.”

“For what?”

Oolong looked surprised.  “You’re not going to...send me away?”

“Do you have a message or not?” Vegeta snapped.

Oolong flushed, scrambling to reach a hand inside the lapel of his tux.  When he pulled out his fist, balled around white lace, Vegeta raised a brow.  Oolong peered at the lace, looking at it longingly.

“Sh-she sent me to give this to you.” As Oolong placed the delicate material in Vegeta’s palm, he winced.  “Please-please make sure she knows I gave it to you. If she thinks I kept it, she’ll kill me!”

Vegeta opened his palm, recognizing the curves of the elastic, the delicate white satin bow lining the edge.  He shot Oolong a growl, his face reddening as he shoved the lacy panties into the interior of his jacket.

Oolong waved defensive hands before Vegeta could speak.  “She told me to give them to you! Ohh, I’m going to kill Bulma.”

“Yeah?” Vegeta asked, shooting to his feet, kicking the barstool out behind him.

Vegeta was ready to kill the assistant.  He could probably do it in one hit, too. Bulma’s abuse didn’t seem to be getting through to Oolong, if he felt it was safe to carry around a pair of the bride’s panties at her own wedding.  Oolong stumbled backward, tripping, but quickly picking himself up. People gasped and turned their eyes from the bar to watch the spectacle.

Oolong looked around, careful not to draw attention as he leaned in to whisper to Vegeta, “She was wearing them.  Now she’s not. And she wants you to meet her.”

Vegeta stood upright.  “What?” He looked around, finding no sign of the white mass of Bulma’s dress anywhere in the ballroom.  “She left here?”

“Yes,” Oolong said with a huff.  “She went back to Capsule Corp.”

Vegeta licked his lips, flustered and heated by Bulma’s proposition, but determined not to show a reaction in front of this pervert.  Bulma was a bitch, delivering a message like this to him in this way. It was a dirty trick. 

Vegeta calmed his breathing as he set his gaze on Oolong.  “It’s about time I get out of here. Well? What are you waiting for?  Send for the car!”

“It’s out there already!”

“Good,” Vegeta said, passing the pig-nosed assistant without another glance as he headed for the exit.  “I have a wife waiting for me. Can’t disappoint the boss.”

His heart beat increased, his breathing growing more frantic with every step toward the car as a smile spread across his face.  This was what being married was all about. He’d never regret the day he was hired to protect Bulma Brief, and he’d never stop protecting her, for the rest of his life.

 


End file.
